


Enthralled

by sneck



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Death, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Enchanted Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), First part is fluff second part is angst, Forgiveness, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Magic Revealed, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, iffy consent issues?, no sex is had though, the tag for violence is mostly about animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneck/pseuds/sneck
Summary: Part 1: Arthur is hit by a love spell.  Merlin isn't okay with it, until he is.Part 2: Not all good things come from good means.  The spell ends and Merlin deals with the consequences.
Relationships: Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Past Gwen/Arthur mention
Comments: 16
Kudos: 224
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2020





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merlin Holidays Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Merlin+Holidays+Community).



> Happy winter month holiday season! This is a response to the prompt: "Arthur is under an enchantment in which he is in love with Merlin. Merlin, already in love with Arthur, guiltily enjoys it." The potential for angst and tomfoolery was too great not to choose it. I'm not sure if I did it justice and I kind of got carried away, but I hope you like it! May your new year be merry and bright and full of Merthur. <3
> 
> \--
> 
> Takes place in a vague timeline where Uther's still king, Morgana and Lancelot are gone, but the other four knights are there.

\---

Merlin was lost. Arthur, the _prat_ , had ditched him the second he'd spotted a trail of muddy divots that Merlin _supposed_ could’ve been paw prints if one was optimistic, leaving him to lug all his hunting gear and weapons through the woods by himself. He _hated_ when Arthur did this. A pack mule got better treatment. The mule wouldn't have to walk in circles all morning with half an armory on his back and a grumbling stomach.

After over an hour of fruitless wandering, he gave up and used a tracking spell to point the way. Once he had his bearings, he stomped off in the opposite direction of where he’d been going, cursing Arthur under his breath the whole way.

The sun was at its highest point when he reached a cozy little clearing. He was considering taking a break when a hand shot up out of nowhere and pulled him behind a tree.

Arthur hissed, “Merlin, you idiot, get down!”

“What's wrong--mphh!" 

"Quiet! Are you trying to get us both killed?”

Arthur's hand over his mouth had muffled the rest of Merlin's question, which had actually been: _What's wrong with you?_ With a follow up: _Do you realize how stupid you look right now?_

Crouched behind a tree barely wider than himself, Arthur had attempted camouflage with a bit of mud and leaves smeared over his armor (which _Merlin_ would have to clean now, thanks very much). Not that it helped him look like anything other than a man in a big hunk of shiny metal sitting in the grass.

Oblivious to all of this, Arthur was more concerned with Merlin's failings. "I could hear you coming a mile away. A stampede of Wilddeoren would've been quieter."

Pulling out of Arthur’s hold, Merlin protested, “The ground’s covered in leaves, Arthur! What do you expect me to do, levitate?” He was half tempted to try it just to shut Arthur up. “I don’t understand why we’re in such a hurry to get eaten anyway.”

“Because it’s our duty.”

“To get eaten?”

“Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur jabbed an imperious finger between his eyes. “This is the third time we’ve lost the trail because of your carelessness! Once more and I’m tying you to your horse for the rest of the trip.”

“You’re the one who managed to lose a great big three-headed monster,” Merlin snarked. 

“And what would _you_ know about hunting?”

“Just about as much as _you_ know about being patient.”

“I happen to possess a great deal of patience, most of which I use to deal with you.”

“Please! You wouldn’t know patience if it bit you in the-”

The rest of Merlin’s retort was drowned out by the sound of something crashing into the foliage. That was all the warning they had before a thing of nightmares descended upon them in a blur of teeth, fur, and horns. 

It was as if a ram and a lion had been stacked, one atop the other, and accidentally transmuted into one wretched being. The two heads tossed and screamed, their eyes rolling madly in sunken sockets. Its fur was matted with gore and grime and its lizard tail lashed out like a whip. There was no doubt that magic played a part in the beast’s creation. 

Arthur shouted for him to get back and Merlin hurried to obey, narrowly avoiding the snap of jaws before he was able to scramble behind the relative safety of a fallen tree trunk. Hidden, he watched Arthur circle the _thing_ with sword drawn. It was clumsy, like its different animal parts were fighting for control, so Arthur dodged its attacks easily enough. The problem was that he didn't have the reach to land a good blow.

“Arthur!” Merlin cried and tossed him a spear, which Arthur caught without missing a beat. Better armed, he quickly overpowered the creature. As it's blood sprayed the grass red, it was beginning to look like Arthur might actually win this one without a magical assist. Then Merlin remembered something.

Weren’t there supposed to be three heads?

Merlin saw it before Arthur did. The monster’s tail wasn’t a tail at all but the body of a serpent, rearing to strike. Too focused on the other two heads, Arthur never saw it coming. A frantic spell burst from Merlin’s lips and he knocked the death blow off course just in time. The snake’s huge fangs instead sank into its own flank. The creature stumbled and thrashed and let loose a pitiful bleating wail.

Arthur ended its suffering with a spear through the heart.

\---

After enjoying a night of good food, courtesy of the very grateful villagers who lived nearby, they set off for home in the morning. Merlin’s stomach was still pleasantly full from the previous night’s victory dinner, but something wasn’t sitting right.

“Where do you think it came from? Something about it just felt sort of...I don’t know.” Merlin recalled the way his magic had recoiled when it touched the creature. “Unnatural.”

“Of course it was unnatural. It was _magic_ ,” Arthur dismissed. He was tethering his horse to a tree just off the main road so they could all have a rest. The King wasn't expecting them back right away so they could take their time for once.

Merlin went on, “But this one was different from every other magical creature we’ve seen before. It was suffering and it was almost like it didn’t know how to control its own body.”

"Ah, so this is what you’ve been sulking about all morning.”

“I wasn’t sulking.”

“Moping, then,” Arthur corrected with a smirk. “You’re always like this after a hunt. Only your big girlish heart could possibly be moved by a monstrosity like that.”

“So you didn’t feel sorry for it? Not even a little?”

Arthur made a face. “Why on earth would I feel _sorry_ for an evil, cow-eating abomination?”

“What’s evil about eating some cattle? A pack of wolves might’ve done the same.”

“Wolves have one head apiece, Merlin. Magical beings aren’t like wild animals just trying to survive, they’re malevolent by nature.”

“You can’t say something’s evil just because it’s got magic,” Merlin said without thinking.

Arthur looked at him like he’d lost his mind, “What the hell are you blathering about?”

“Well, I mean,” Merlin stammered, “I just think it’s wrong to make assumptions in general.”

“Merlin,” Arthur pinched his nose, “You _can’t_ talk this way. Anyone but me would have you strung up for treason if they heard.”

“But Arthur-”

"But nothing! Now stop prattling nonsense and help me with the horses, will you?"

Having declared the conversation over, Arthur got to work and expected Merlin to follow his lead. Which he did, because he always did. But Merlin could work and stare at Arthur sullenly at the same time, whereas Arthur was not capable of such multitasking, especially when Merlin was making _that_ face at him.

"Alright, fine," Arthur huffed, "You’ve clearly got more to say so spit it out."

Merlin knew he should drop it, but this whole trip had just been one frustration after another and no one could blame him for feeling a bit fed up. So instead of doing the smart thing, which was to keep his mouth shut on the subject, he crossed his arms and sniffed, "We're a lot more likely to be stabbed to death by bandits right now than be magicked by an evil sorcerer, you know."

"’Magicked’ is not a word.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “And that's hardly surprising, _Mer_ lin, as it doesn't require very much power to use a _knife._ "

Merlin crowed, "Exactly!” Ignoring Arthur’s startled look, Merlin gestured emphatically. “There are so many different and easier ways to be a murderer, so even if every last drop of magic was taken from the world, it wouldn’t stop people from killing each other all the time."

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

“That maybe magic isn’t the problem! It’s just evil people using magic to do evil things!”

Arthur groaned. “Merlin-”

Behind them, someone said in a reedy voice, “I completely agree."

They whipped around to face the stranger, Arthur reaching for his scabbard and Merlin keeping an eye out for particularly weak looking tree branches. There was a gaunt woman in tattered brown rags smiling at them from the edge of the road. Everything about her was crooked. Her nose was bent, her posture uneven. Her smile tilted oddly, like one side of her mouth was being tugged upward by an invisible fish hook.

Arthur faced her warily. “I beg your pardon?”

"I _said_ I agree." She grinned wider, revealing blackened teeth. “Magic is simply a key to the evil locked away in all men’s hearts.” Smile dropping, she pointed a crooked finger at Arthur and spat, “For example you, Arthur Pendragon, need no magic to spill the blood of innocent creatures! Oh, my poor sweet chimera...”

Merlin edged forward, trying to put himself between the woman and Arthur, who'd by now drawn his sword. “You sent the creature to attack that village.”

She smiled again. “Not to attack. Simply to draw out a handsome prince."

Arthur raised his sword and said, “Well I’m here now.” (Merlin coughed to cover up a laugh. Arthur didn't react, but Merlin knew he'd pay for it later, having gotten the 'you can't laugh at your prince in front of the enemy, Merlin' lecture often enough.) “Got any more rubbish monsters for me to kill?”

“I'll admit that molding flesh is not where my talent shines. No, I am far more interested in what lies within.” She fixed her hungry gaze to a point on Arthur’s chest. “Once I have stolen your heart, sweet prince, Camelot will be mine!”

Merlin and Arthur groaned simultaneously. Not _another_ one.

But what the witch lacked in originality she made up for in speed. Before Merlin could do anything about it, she let loose a string of gibberish and flung out a hand. A beam of yellow light shot out of her palm and hit Arthur square in the chest. Merlin was in front of him in a flash, catching him by the shoulders when his body began to lilt.

Merlin shook him gently. “Arthur! Arthur, are you alright?” 

Slowly, Arthur appeared to come out of his daze. Wide eyes blinked slowly and grew even wider as they locked onto Merlin. For a moment, Merlin saw a glimmer of yellow shining behind the blue. 

A peculiar look spread over Arthur's face. _“Merlin,”_ he gasped and then fainted dead away in Merlin’s arms.

“No!” screamed the witch, looking between Merlin and Arthur in shock. Her expression quickly darkened. “You shall regret that.”

Merlin glared at her over the armful of _very_ heavy prince that he was struggling to hold upright. “What did you do to him?!”

“Not to worry, boy, no harm will come to your master.” She smiled nastily. “No physical harm, that is.”

“Remove the spell!” Merlin demanded.

The witch shrugged, voice full of mocking amusement. “What is done cannot be undone.”

Merlin was about to just blast her unconscious and be done with it when Arthur stirred. “Arthur! Are you-mmph!”

And suddenly there were lips on his own. Blood still pumping with battle adrenaline, it took a moment for Merlin to register what was happening.

Which was that Arthur was kissing him. 

_Arthur_ was _kissing him._

Merlin broke the kiss and backed away so quickly he tripped over himself twice. “What are you _doing?”_

Catching Merlin by the neckerchief, Arthur tugged him back into kissing range. He purred, “I should think that was obvious, or haven’t you been kissed before?” The sultry look turned teasing. “There’s no shame in it, Merlin, really, though it honestly wouldn’t surprise me.”

The sudden proximity and the suggestive lilt in Arthur’s voice was making Merlin uncomfortably warm. 

But then the words registered. “I’ve been _kissed_ before, you ass!” 

He began to weigh the pros and cons of knocking Arthur out with the tree branch he'd picked out for--oh shit. He'd completely forgotten about the sorceress! 

He shoved Arthur out of the way, but the road was empty. She was gone. He cursed loudly.

A hand landed on his shoulder and started kneading. “What’s the matter, darling?”

Merlin shuddered. He _hated_ love spells.

“Ugh, don’t call me that ever. Alright listen, Arthur. It looks like you’re enchanted again.”

Arthur rubbed his chest, frowning. “I don’t _feel_ enchanted.” A sweet smile came over his face. “But if you say so, it must be true. I trust your judgment, Merlin.”

“Oh, you’re definitely bewitched.”

“Well then! Suppose we’d better be getting back to Camelot so Gaius can whip up a cure,” chirped Arthur and trotted back to the horses, expecting Merlin to follow. Which he did, because he always did. He watched Arthur's every move in case this was one of those love spells that made you useless at everything, including riding a horse. He seemed to be getting along alright so far. At least he hadn't put the saddle on backwards like the last time. “Of course, we mustn’t let Father find out. There’s always the chance he’ll think _you’re_ the source of the magic. And you know how he'd react to that.” 

Arthur ribbed him, chuckling and Merlin eyed a tree branch overhead longingly.

“Yes, I would prefer to keep my head on my shoulders, thanks,” he deadpanned, already dreading the ride back. “Hurry up and let’s go so we can fix you.”

Arthur laughed, “Oh don’t be such a worrywort, Merlin! I feel fine! As far as I can tell, this ‘enchantment’ doesn’t seem to be causing any harm.”

“Still, I’d rather not give the King any reason to execute me today.”

Merlin squeaked when Arthur seized him by the shoulders, gazed solemnly into his wide eyes and swore, “I’d never let my father hurt you, my love. If he even tries it, I’ll kill him without hesitation.”

 _No harm,_ thought Merlin grimly, _yeah right._

“All the more reason to keep all of this a secret,” he said, extricating himself and wondering how his morning had ended up like this. “If you don't want my head to end up in a basket, you gonna need to act normal when we get back to the castle.”

“I’m being perfectly normal,” scoffed Arthur as he tenderly brushed a bit of pollen out of Merlin’s fringe. Merlin slapped his hand away with a sigh.

\---

Uther had been happy enough with their report, despite Arthur’s less-than-normal behavior. At Merlin’s insistence, he’d left out the parts with the witch. But he also greatly embellished Merlin’s role in killing the chimera, praising the ingenuity it took to hide behind a tree and toss Arthur a spear. Uther had stared at the two of them narrow eyed, but he acknowledged Merlin’s valor (albeit with skepticism bordering on sarcasm) while simultaneously admonishing Arthur for needing the aid of a servant at all. Arthur had grinned proudly at Merlin like a puppy begging for pats.

They met with Gaius immediately after, who said that it sounded like a love-at-first-sight spell. “We are lucky, Merlin, that you were the first one Arthur saw and not the sorceress.”

“Lucky, sure.” Merlin watched this unsettlingly doe-eyed Arthur across the workbench with distrust. Somewhat desperately, he turned to Gaius. "What about True Love’s Kiss? It cured him last time, maybe could it work again?”

“Not necessarily. These love spells are a tricky business,” Gaius said as he shuffled around the room collecting book after book. “We have a long night of research ahead of us, my boy.”

Merlin groaned. 

With Gaius rooting around for reference texts, Arthur turned to Merlin with a flirtatious smile. “I appreciate you working so hard to help me, Merlin.”

“Stop _appreciating_ me, it’s _weird.”_

“Well if you won’t accept my words of thanks, allow me to express my gratitude another way,” Arthur said and then leaned across the table, head tilted up in expectation.

“What're you making that face for?”

“You wanted to test true love’s kiss as an antidote. Well?” Arthur tapped his quirked lips.

Merlin flushed bright red and spluttered, “I’m not your true love--Gwen is!”

Brow furrowed, Arthur said, “Guinevere is not the one I love.”

“Yes she is!” Merlin exclaimed, voice climbing. “Besides, we kissed in the forest and nothing happened!”

“Second time’s the charm.” Arthur leaned forward again.

The legs of the bench screeched against the floor when Merlin frantically scooted away. “Oh, no no no, you are not kissing me again!”

The hurt in Arthur’s face almost made Merlin feel bad, but at least he didn't seem to want to kiss him anymore. 

Arthur fell back into his seat, dejected. “Am I so repulsive to you?”

“No!” Merlin pulled his hair. “I mean--yes! You repulse me, so go--go hit things with a sword for a few hours while I figure this out!”

Obediently, Arthur left. But not for long. He came and went throughout the day, unable to stay away from Merlin for more than a few hours without making himself a bloody nuisance. 

At mid-morning, he stopped by with some hand-picked daisies, which Merlin tossed immediately, telling Arthur to knock it off. A few hours later, he returned with a bowl of grapes, offering to hand-feed them to Merlin, who sent him away but kept the grapes. When Arthur came back again with a whole roast chicken on a silver platter, Merlin accepted it gratefully because he was quite hungry and then banished him from Gaius’ quarters once and for all so he could finally get some damn research done.

After a fruitless night of pouring through dusty old texts, Merlin showed up to work the next day dead on his feet. He waved off Arthur’s lovestruck concern by making an offhand joke about needing a day off. 

And then nearly died of shock when Arthur actually _gave him one._

Not once in all the years Merlin had served him had Arthur given him a day off. Last summer, Merlin had wanted to go swimming in a nearby lake with some of the knights. But when he brought it up to Arthur all he got was a lecture on responsibility and modesty and how the Prince’s manservant couldn’t be seen skinny dipping with the knights of Camelot and who was it that had the nerve to invite Merlin anyway?

Not wanting to waste this rare opportunity, Merlin thanked him before he could take it back and skipped downstairs for a luxurious nap, followed by a lazy day of practicing spells in his room, visiting Gwaine in the tavern, and generally just strolling around the citadel, feeling the stress melt away. 

Eventually, Gaius’ eyebrow herded Merlin back into his research, so he settled in for another long night only to find the love-at-first-sight spell in the very next book he opened, signaling the end of his first and only ever vacation day. He tried not to feel too disappointed.

Luckily for them the spell didn’t seem to be dangerous, though it was unusually complex, the solution requiring both a potion and a counter spell. True Love’s Kiss wouldn’t do it this time around, and Merlin was relieved to not have to orchestrate another kiss between Arthur and Gwen.

Still it was a shame. He could get used to this considerate and generous Arthur who gave Merlin time off and roast chicken.

\---

“I thought you might need a new cloak to go with the boots,” said Arthur, standing in the middle of Merlin’s ratty little bedroom with a bundle of expensive wool in his arms.

“Oh, you really didn’t have to…”

“I insist.” Arthur wrapped the cloak around him, smoothing away wrinkles with a lingering caress. He paid particular attention to straightening out the collar, fingers brushing repeatedly against Merlin’s sensitive neck.

Merlin hastily stepped back and opened the door. “Yes, thank you, it's lovely. But I’ve got a lot of stuff I need to do for Gaius so…”

“Oh. Of course,” Arthur blinked, “Would you like another day off?”

“Sure, yeah, thanks.” Merlin ushered him out.

“I’ll see you later, though?” asked Arthur with a hopeful smile.

“It’s not like I can stop you,” Merlin grumbled as he shut the door in Arthur’s face. Sighing, he put the cloak away with his other new things. 

It had been great at first, being spoiled by Arthur these past three days. He liked to surprise Merlin with desserts and thoughtful presents. (Merlin especially liked the brand new pair of rabbit fur lined winter boots currently sitting by his bed.) Even better was the way Arthur _listened_ when Merlin spoke and appreciated all the little things he did for him. And since Arthur was acting mostly normal otherwise, Merlin didn’t feel too bad that he was dragging his feet a little on that counter spell potion, content to bask in the attention while it lasted.

The only real downside to all of it was that Arthur kept trying to seduce him and it was incredibly annoying. 

Merlin decided to spend this fourth day off napping in his room, but was jolted awake some time later by something hitting his window. When he looked outside to tell whatever kid was throwing rocks to stop, he instead saw Arthur, standing beneath Merlin's little window in broad daylight, dramatically reading off of a scrap of parchment.

_“O, sweet servant of mine heart,_

_Thy skin as fair as snow,_

_Pray, let me kiss thy lips that surely are_

_Lovelier than a..._ er... _a crow’s.”_

Merlin slammed the window open. “Shut up before somebody hears you!” Merlin hissed.

Affronted, Arthur complained, “But I worked all day on this.”

“Just give it to me later!” He shut the window on Arthur’s protests and buried his face in his brand new silk pillow with a groan.

\---

Merlin reached his breaking point the night Arthur invited him over for supper in his rooms. He had ordered all of Merlin’s favorites and even let him have one of his herb-crusted capers, though he’d tried to feed it to him first. It was all going well until midway through the meal when Arthur reached across the table and swiped a bit of sauce from the corner of Merlin’s mouth with his thumb. 

“You had a little something,” he explained with a cheeky wink.

Glaring, Merlin smacked his hand away. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“You know what!”

Arthur drew his hand back, pouting. “You hate me.”

Merlin made a frustrated noise. “I don’t, okay? If you start crying again I _swear_ -”

“Then why are you so upset?”

Something in Merlin snapped and he shouted, “Because you don’t mean it!”

The clatter of silver alerted Merlin to the fact that he’d stood up and knocked his goblet over. He watched as the wine spread over the table, ruining their intimate dinner for two. _No big loss_ , he thought _, the wine was too sour anyway._

Arthur stared up at him with wide injured eyes. “I am being completely sincere.”

“No, you’re not!” Merlin shouted, suddenly and inexplicably angry. “It’s a spell! Remember? When we break it, you’re going to go back to being a prat who ignores everything I say and throws goblets at my head! And when you're back to normal, you'll be disgusted that you said any of this to me!”

A wrinkle formed between Arthur’s brows. “I would never be disgusted, Merlin. Is that what you think?” He shook his head slowly. “These feelings I have for you didn’t come out of nowhere. Yes, the spell helped me to see more clearly, but I have always felt-”

Merlin couldn't listen to this. “Just--stop talking. Please.” He went to get a rag and started to mop up the mess he’d made, every last bit of his good mood evaporated into thin air. 

Arthur’s hand covered his own, stilling his furious scrubbing. “Merlin.”

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

When Merlin tried to pull away, Arthur held fast. His face was heartbreakingly earnest. “Please believe me when I say that, spell or not, you are precious to me.”

Merlin’s shoulders stiffened. “Arthur…”

“No, listen! I know I haven’t always said so, but it’s true.“ Arthur smiled, small and fond. “There’s always been something about you, Merlin.”

Merlin’s stomach fluttered.

“Even before all this, I could never stop thinking about you,” Arthur continued with unbearable tenderness. “Since the moment we met. I was always trying to figure you out, always watching you when I could get away with it. Every time you’ve gotten hurt or I thought I might lose you, I thought of a future without you by my side and couldn’t accept it. Now I finally understand why. Merlin. It’s because I love-”

Merlin yanked himself out of Arthur’s grasp and fled before he could hear anything else.

\---

He was hiding in the laundry room when Gwen found him. She crouched down to where he was huddled in a corner with a basket of clothes in his lap. 

“Merlin? Is everything alright?”

Merlin shrugged, gut churning with guilt. He hadn’t spared so much as a thought for Gwen since this all began. Hadn't even considered until just now how hurt she must have been by the way Arthur completely ignored her when they returned from the chimera hunt, and every day since. Gods what a terrible friend he was.

Pasting on a smile, he lied, “Just a little tired. This project I’m working on for Gaius kept me up all night.”

She obviously wasn’t buying it. But she charitably let it go for now, settling beside him with her own basket of freshly laundered sheets. They folded together in companionable silence for a while, but inevitably she asked what Merlin had hoped she wouldn't. “Is this about Arthur?”

He winced. “Is what about Arthur?”

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Merlin.”

“It’s nothing, honestly.”

A beat passed, then the fond exasperation in her smile turned into something sadder. Gwen took a moment to smooth the folds of the fabric in her lap before saying, “I wouldn’t be angry, you know. If it _was_ something.”

Merlin stared at her with wide eyes. “Gwen?”

“Honestly, I’ve suspected for a while now.”

“What...what are you talking about?”

Gwen stared down at her lap, blushing. “You and Arthur.”

Alarmed, Merlin rushed to correct her. “No, Gwen, there’s nothing between us, I swear. Arthur would never betray you like that. _I_ would never...”

He trailed off when she grabbed his hand, an echo of the other night with Arthur. Her smile was gentle and trusting. “I know you wouldn’t, Merlin.”

But he _had_ , he realized. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t real. He’d let Arthur flirt and pursue him while Gwen waited on the sidelines, hurt and confused. Guilt cut through him like a knife.

“I swear to you there's nothing between us, Gwen,” he said, willing her to see the truth in his eyes. "If Arthur’s said anything strange to you, don’t believe him, he’s being an idiot.”

“He hasn’t said anything. But with the way he’s been acting around you lately, he doesn't have to,” she said, lips quirking.

Damn Arthur’s lack of subtlety. Merlin hastily improvised, “He hit his head on our way back to Camelot! He’s probably just concussed.”

She wasn’t buying that either. “If _that_ was true, you’d be hovering at his bedside right now, not hiding away down here.”

“I’m not hiding,” he protested. Gwen smirked. “Alright, fine, I’m hiding. But it’s only because we had an argument. It’s not...whatever you’re implying.”

“What happened?”

“The usual,” he lied. “I told Arthur he was being a prat and now I’m trying to keep my head out of the stocks.”

She slapped his arm playfully. “Arthur hasn’t put you in the stocks for years.”

“Not for lack of trying.”

Smiling indulgently, she shook her head. “Do you really not see how much Arthur cares for you?”

“I know he cares, but it’s not like you think. I’m just his servant.”

“And what about you? Is Arthur _just_ your prince? I’ve seen how you look at him, too.”

Merlin shut his eyes. Had he really been that obvious? “I’m sorry, Gwen...you know I wouldn’t…”

“Hush, I know.” She pulled him in for a tight hug, repeating firmly, “I’m not mad. It was never serious between Arthur and I. He never let it be, knowing nothing could come of it. But you have always been the exception to every rule where Arthur is concerned.”

Merlin returned the embrace, drinking in the forgiveness he didn’t feel he deserved. “You are really overestimating Arthur’s esteem of me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I think you’re the one underestimating Arthur.”

“Why aren’t you more upset?” Merlin asked, baffled.

“Because I want you to be happy.” There wasn’t a trace of sadness in her smile now, only that fond exasperation she reserved for Merlin. “You and Arthur are never happier than when you’re together. I’m rooting for you.”

\---

Merlin couldn’t hide forever. Eventually he slunk back to Arthur’s chambers to work on his chores, which he’d really been neglecting this past week. There was a crack in the window pane that needed mending and he’d been putting it off even before their trip. Five of Arthur’s tunics needed mending, a consequence of letting Arthur dress himself for a week. And then there was the state of the fireplace...

Arthur sat quietly at his desk while Merlin tidied. He seemed to have gotten the message finally, looking pathetically repentant every time Merlin glanced his way. Fidgeting with a letter opener, he broke the silence, “I would like to apologize for my unacceptable behavior these past few days.”

Merlin fluffed a pillow and mumbled, “It’s fine.”

Arthur stared down at his fidgeting hands. “I will no longer force my unwanted affections onto you. I never meant to put you into such an uncomfortable position.”

Merlin sighed. “I said it’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t,” Arthur insisted, frowning. “I’ve thought about it, and I see that I’ve let my feelings for you ruin things between us. I don’t blame you for being angry.”

“I’m not angry. Not at you. None of this is your fault.”

“But it is!” Arthur pushed himself to his feet, surprising Merlin with his vehemence. “Don’t you see? You think this is the work of the spell, but I _know_ I have loved you for a long time. These feelings are my own, therefore the fault is my own. When the magic opened my eyes, I was so overcome by the revelation of my true feelings that I didn’t stop to think about yours. I’m truly sorry, Merlin.”

Arthur slumped, shame-faced, while Merlin could only stare in stunned silence. An instinctual need to comfort made him say, “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I said I wasn’t angry and I’m not.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“Gods, we are a pair,” Merlin muttered, then dismissed Arthur’s questioning look. “You’ve done nothing to hurt me, I promise.”

“I still should not have burdened you by acting on feelings that will never be returned.”

“I wouldn’t say never.” Oh hells. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Wait, no, I mean-”

“Merlin?” Arthur gazed at him with such fragile hope that Merlin didn’t have the heart to be anything but honest. Hopefully Arthur wouldn’t remember any of this later.

He sighed, “Maybe I’m not as burdened by your feelings as you think I am.” There. He could leave it at that. No reason to go into just how ‘unburdened’ he was.

“Does this mean you don’t mind me expressing my fondness for you?”

Merlin was going to regret this. “I don’t mind as long as you’re not being annoying about it.”

“So you’ll allow me to court you?”

“Just--just until the spell wears off.”

Arthur’s smile was like the sun coming out from the clouds and Merlin hated the way his belly swooped at the sight. But then Arthur placed a tender kiss on the back of Merlin’s hand and he surrendered himself to that growing giddy feeling. It was just until the spell wore off.

\---

For the following days, Merlin cautiously allowed Arthur to shower him with affection while he worked on the potion. But with Arthur being so attentive, Merlin was finding it hard to concentrate.

While Merlin ground some dung beetle into a coarse powder, Arthur helped lay out some of the other ingredients. That was something else Merlin couldn’t get used to--Arthur being helpful. 

“How about we go for a picnic for lunch?” Arthur asked. 

Merlin shrugged, “As long as it’s nothing fancy.”

“Nothing fancy,” agreed Arthur. “But I’ll still ask Chef to pack some blackberry tarts. They’re your favorite now, right?”

Merlin stopped grinding and stared. “How did you know that?”

“I pay attention to you, Merlin.” Arthur leaned into Merlin’s space, voice lowered suggestively. “Especially the things you put in your mouth.” 

Merlin fumbled the bowl, sending ground beetle all over the counter. Arthur burst out laughing because even enchanted he was a prat. Red-faced, Merlin glared at him until he finished.

“Sorry, Merlin, I couldn’t help myself. Here, let me clean that up for you.” Arthur left to fetch a dustpan. As he passed, he trailed a warm hand along Merlin’s back. Merlin shivered at the touch and at the heated look Arthur threw over his shoulder in parting.

“Still working on the potion, I see,” said Gaius, appearing out of nowhere.

Merlin almost jumped out of his skin. “Gaius! Er, when did you get back?”

“Just now.” Gaius’ eyebrow was full of judgement today. “That potion must really be stumping you if you’ve enlisted Arthur’s help.”

“Oh yeah. It’s a tough one. Going to crack it any day now, though.”

“Hm. Well lucky for you, I had a few hours to spare yesterday while you and the Prince were taking a stroll along the battlements, so I took the liberty of finishing the potion myself.” He withdrew a vial of purple liquid from his sleeve and held it out for Merlin to take, which he did reluctantly.

“Oh. That’s great. Thanks, Gaius.”

“Of course, there is still the matter of the incantation. You will need to figure out a way to perform it without Arthur noticing. We still don’t know if he will remember any of this after he’s cured.”

“I’m sure he won’t. He never does.”

“It doesn’t hurt to be cautious,” Gaius warned. His eyes flicked meaningfully at Arthur, who was returning with a dustpan and brush triumphantly clutched in his hand.

Merlin tucked the potion away. “I am cautious. No, really, I know what I’m doing. I’ll break the spell soon.” That didn’t seem to be enough for Gaius so he amended, “I’ll do it tomorrow. I swear.”

\---

He really did mean to keep to his promise, but he was having trouble coming up with a plan. The spell had to be cast while making eye contact with the victim. He could maybe disguise himself as Dragoon again, but there’d be nothing stopping Arthur from attacking him on sight. He could knock Arthur out and hold his eyes open while shoving the potion down his throat and simultaneously casting the spell, but for all he knew Arthur had to be awake for it to work. 

Plan after plan was discarded until “tomorrow” became “the day after tomorrow” which became “right after the next feast” which became “as soon as I’m done darning all of Arthur’s socks,” and so on. He hid the potion in the drawer beside Arthur’s bed so he could easily find it when the time finally came.

Arthur was at least partly to blame for the delay, Merlin thought in his own defense. He was getting bolder with his flirtations and Merlin had gotten used to leaving Arthur’s chambers everyday embarrassingly turned on.

Bath times, Merlin thought, were the worst. Or the best, depending on how you looked at it.

“Aren’t you going to help scrub my back?” Arthur asked while he lounged in the tub, watching Merlin putter around the room with great amusement.

“Scrub it yourself, you spoiled prat.”

Arthur laughed but did wash himself without further complaint and only minimal innuendo while Merlin tried to appear unaffected by his nakedness. Because he shouldn’t be affected at all. He’d helped Arthur bathe hundreds of times before, but there had lately been a charged atmosphere between them that was turning this domestic chore into something far more perilous.

Merlin averted his eyes while Arthur dried himself off. He could _feel_ Arthur smirking at him.

“When did you become a blushing maiden, Merlin?”

“When did you become an exhibitionist?”

Arthur scoffed, “I hardly think walking around my own chambers in the nude counts as exhibitionism. I do it all the time.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Oh, _have_ you?”

Blushing furiously, Merlin flung Arthur’s royal underthings at him. “Just shut up while I get you dressed.”

Arthur stayed graciously quiet while Merlin got him in his trousers and boots, though the amusement fairly radiated off of him when Merlin hesitated at the ties for his breeches. Taking pity, Arthur brushed him away and tied them himself, smirking down at Merlin with an intense look in his eyes.

Realizing he was kneeling at Arthur’s feet with his face inches from his crotch, Merlin quickly stood and shoved Arthur’s shirt over his head so he wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. Arthur snorted and allowed Merlin to manipulate his arms through the sleeves like a doll’s.

He was just finishing up the laces on the shirt when Arthur gently grabbed Merlin’s hand. Merlin breathlessly followed the path Arthur took his hand on, trailing up his own broad chest and bringing it up to kiss the fingers.

Merlin gasped at the feeling. He didn’t remove his hand. “What was that for?”

Arthur smiled against his fingers. “Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention.”

Feigning annoyance, Merlin pushed that stupid, smiling, handsome face away. “If you’re done, I’m going to open the big window, too. It’s steaming in here.” Desperately needing some fresh air to clear his head, Merlin tried to push the window open. It was stuck. He pushed harder, putting his weight into it.

(If Merlin had been thinking more clearly, or had just fixed that damned windowpane like he was supposed to, it would never have happened and maybe nothing between them would have changed.)

There was a loud crack and Merlin felt something give. The window detached from its frame and his body started to fall. In his shock, he barely registered Arthur’s panicked shout.

“Merlin!”

Arthur yanked him away from the window by the back of his tunic. But there had been some spilled bathwater on the floor, which Merlin hadn’t yet mopped up, and Arthur slipped. He’d run halfway across the room and his momentum pitched him forward, too fast to stop. His knee hit the bottom ledge and the bulk of him tipped over and out.

Merlin didn’t have time to think before he acted.

Suspended half out of the window, Arthur’s body was frozen in place. The sound of glass shattering on cobblestone was distant. Shocked, Arthur looked straight into Merlin’s golden eyes.

Merlin pulled him back inside with barely a gesture and Arthur stumbled onto his feet, one hand gripping the wall for support. Pale-faced, he stared at Merlin with dawning horror.

After a long painful silence, Arthur croaked. “You did magic.”

Merlin began to shake. He backed away, gasping out, “I’m sorry.”

Shock had turned to anger and Arthur pushed off the wall, advancing on Merlin with clenched fists. “Who taught you?”

Shaking his head, Merlin backed away and wondered how it could all have gone so wrong so quickly. “Nobody! I was born with magic. I’ve--I’ve always known how to use it.”

Arthur stopped, eyes widening. “So you’ve been doing magic all this time…”

“Yes, but I use it for you, Arthur,” Merlin said shakily. “To protect you and--and Camelot. I swear, I won’t ever betray your trust.”

“But haven’t you already?”

Merlin could feel tears building so he shut his eyes against them. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what,” said Arthur quietly.

“Don’t--don’t report me to the King or--or send me away,” Merlin gasped, unable to hold back the tears. “Don’t hate me, please.”

Suddenly there were arms around him and Arthur whispering against his hair, “Never, Merlin. I could never.”

The first wave of tears broke through and then Merlin couldn’t hold back anymore. Arthur held him close as he cried, offering the forgiveness and safety he’d dreamt of for so long.

“I’m sorry you had to hide this from me,” Arthur said quietly. “I wish you’d told me, but I understand why you didn’t.”

“I was afraid,” Merlin whispered.

“You don’t have to be anymore,” Arthur pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. There was sadness there, and determination, but above all that, love. “I’m going to protect you from all of it, Merlin. I promise.”

“Arthur…” Merlin breathed, so many emotions bursting within him and no way to express them all in words. Instead he leaned forward and kissed him. He tried to put all his scattered feelings into the kiss and Arthur met him with equal intensity until they were both breathless. They would have a lot to talk about, but this was as good a way as any to start.

That night, they sat by the fire for hours, Arthur listening attentively to Merlin’s stories, everything he’d done since coming to Camelot, the good and the bad. Eventually they ended up passing a flagon of wine between them, which helped to loosen both the tension and their tongues.

“So tell me again about the dragon that I didn’t kill.”

“He’s an arse,” Merlin said, warm with wine. He’d needed to be a few drinks in to tell _that_ particular story. “He’s obsessed with this prophecy about us. Our destiny.”

Arthur snorted, “Naturally there’s a _prophecy_. So what’s this great destiny of ours involve?”

“I’m meant to help you unite the five kingdoms and bring magic back to the land.”

Arthur hummed. “Not a bad destiny.”

Merlin tried to gauge his sincerity, but it was difficult in the low light. “Really? You’d want to bring magic back?”

“Merlin, everything you’ve told me tonight proves that my father is wrong about magic. And _your_ magic…” He brushed a finger over the corner of Merlin’s eye and breathed, “It’s beautiful. I can see no evil in it. Nor in you.”

Merlin wiped the wetness springing to his eyes. It was a wonder he had any tears left after earlier. “You have no idea what it means to hear you say that.”

“I’ll say it as many times as you need. I’m sorry I didn’t before,” said Arthur, stroking his cheek.

Sniffling, Merlin turned his face into Arthur’s warm palm. “Not your fault.”

“I should have listened to you more. I will from now on, Merlin, I’ll listen to everything you say.”

Merlin took Arthur’s hand in his own and twined their fingers together, unable to find words worthy of the reverence Arthur had given them. When the fire died down, Merlin stoked it with magic. He held his breath for Arthur’s reaction.

Arthur smiled, “Handy, that.” Merlin smiled back, feeling like he could fly. 

After a moment, Arthur sobered and he turned to contemplate the fire. “You’ve done so much for me, Merlin, even after I’ve treated you poorly.”

“You’re meant for great things, Arthur. That’s the one thing the dragon was right about.”

Arthur didn’t look convinced, continuing in a hushed voice, as if ashamed, “I sometimes wonder if I wasn’t meant to be a prince, if there wasn’t someone better suited to this destiny whose place I stole when I was born. My conception was unnatural, after all.”

Merlin looked up sharply. “You can’t think that.”

“Can’t I?” Maybe it was the wine or the effect of a night divulging secrets, but Arthur looked more vulnerable in that moment than Merlin had ever seen him. “I’ve made so many mistakes and so many of my victories were never mine to begin with.” Arthur smiled sadly at the guilty look on Merlin’s face. “Don’t feel bad. I’m the one who should apologize to you. All that you’ve done for me and all that you are, how could I possibly be worthy of such devotion?”

Merlin took Arthur’s face in his hands, wanting him to see how serious he was. “I have never met a better man than you. You’d be my king even if you were born a peasant.”

Arthur brought a shaking hand up to clutch Merlin’s and whispered, “Thank you.” Sighing, he shut his eyes, “But I have so many doubts, Merlin. The more I am betrayed, the more I fear I was never worthy of their loyalty at all.”

Merlin felt like an idiot. He’d only minutes ago revealed to Arthur the real reason Morgana turned traitor. Of course he’d be feeling this way right now.

“How long have you thought these things?” he asked gently.

“All my life,” Arthur admitted with a self-deprecating smile. “I’ve never told anyone before you, though.”

Merlin couldn’t help but kiss him. When he pulled away, he promised, “I will never betray you.”

“I know.”

Arthur held him tightly and Merlin closed his eyes, letting his world narrow down to the warmth of him.

\---

For a while it was bliss. It was amazing to be able to do magic with Arthur around. Every day, Arthur told Merlin he loved him and every day Merlin almost said it back. It was nearly everything he’d ever wanted.

It was a month after their fateful quest to kill the chimera and Merlin had forgotten about the little purple vial he’d hidden in Arthur’s side table drawer. They’d only just returned from another hunting trip and Merlin already needed to clean Arthur up for a feast, this time in honor of some visiting lord neither he nor Arthur could remember the name of. He hummed a simple tune as he put away Arthur’s travelling gear. He didn’t even notice the vial sitting at the back of the drawer as he shoved the belt in and shut it with his hip.

“No time for a bath I’m afraid, Sire,” said Merlin as he directed various articles of clothing around the room with one hand and tried to fix Arthur’s hair with the other. The rest of Arthur’s gear put itself away and his discarded leather jerkin plunked into the soapy laundry bucket in the corner to wash itself. Once Arthur was out of them, the boots trotted off to join the jerkin and give themselves a good scrub down, leaving a trail of muddy footprints in their wake.

“Oi! Watch where you’re stepping!” Merlin scolded.

Arthur watched all this with amusement. “You realize you’re yelling at yourself, essentially.”

“I can yell at whoever I want,” Merlin sniffed as Arthur’s feast attire laid itself out neatly on the bed. He picked up a red doublet and inspected it for stains. “It’s been a very stressful few days. Another town, another beast eating their cows.”

“At least it was only a regular wolf this time. Pity it got away before we could get its pelt, but there’s no way it survived that wound.” Arthur was talking about how he’d driven his sword all the way through the poor animal’s neck. Neither of them expected it to get up after that and when it ran away they were suitably shocked.

“Unless it wasn’t a regular wolf. Could’ve been a werewolf.” Merlin frowned. “Are werewolves real?”

Arthur snorted, “Why are you asking me? You’re the sorcerer. Now, are you _sure_ there isn’t time for a bath? Because you could always join me-”

Merlin threw a towel in his face.

\---

After the feast, they stumbled arm-in-arm back to Arthur’s chambers, giddy from drink and a reckless night of flirting right under the King’s nose. As soon as Merlin shut the door behind them, he was being kissed within an inch of his life.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” panted Arthur when he pulled back. 

Merlin wanted to say, _same to you_ , because Arthur freshly kissed was the most gorgeous sight he had ever laid eyes on. But he was too dizzy to figure out how to put those three words together so instead he blurted, “I love you.”

Stiffening, he immediately tried to take it back but Arthur just leaned in with a smile and said against his lips, “Same to you.”

Their kiss became heated, more than Merlin had allowed it to be until now. Before Merlin even realized they’d moved, he was tumbling onto the bed. Arthur joined him and began to enthusiastically suck and bite at his neck, leaving a constellation of bruises in the wake of his tongue and teeth. Moaning, Merlin arched into the delicious pressure of Arthur’s body, blood rushing _down_ and making him even dizzier.

“Arthur,” he gasped, lost in pleasure. He pulled Arthur’s head up for a kiss and saw-

A glimmer of yellow behind the blue.

Cursing, Merlin pushed him away and was suddenly, horribly sober. “Fuck, Arthur. We can’t. Fuck--I should’ve never left it so long, let it get this far...”

It took a moment for Arthur to understand. When he did, he went quiet and nodded. “The spell?”

“The spell.” Merlin shut his eyes. “I’m such an idiot. I should’ve broken it weeks ago. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, it’s alright.” Arthur took Merlin’s hand, rubbing calming circles across the back of it with his thumb. “If you knew how to break the spell, why didn’t you?”

“I…” Merlin hesitated, not wanting to admit how own foolishness. “I was afraid that if I broke it, all of this would end. You’d just forget and we’d go back to the way things used to be. But, but _I’d_ still remember.”

“I won’t forget,” Arthur promised and kissed Merlin gently. Merlin tried to savor this kiss in case it was the last. Pulling away, he mumbled a word and the side table drawer opened. The little vial containing Arthur’s potion floated out and into Merlin’s trembling hand. 

“Everything will be okay,” said Arthur, taking the vial.

Merlin tried to believe him. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” said Arthur. Then he put the bottle to his lips and tipped it back. Merlin held his eyes while he spoke the incantation, power building on every word. When he got to the end, a familiar yellow light burst out of Arthur’s body, momentarily blinding Merlin before dispersing into nothing.

Arthur’s eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. 

Merlin’s heart pounded against his ribcage. “Arthur…?” He reached out to him.

Arthur slapped his hand away. Violently, he launched off the bed and was on the other side of the room in a blink.

Dread tightened around Merlin’s chest like a vice and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. “A-Arthur?”

Arthur was shaking. All the color had left his face and his knuckles were white from how hard he was clenching his fists. Staring at Merlin in cold fury, he growled, “Get. Out.”

It was worse than falling into a frozen lake, the pain hitting you after the shock, followed by terror when you try to swim up only to hit solid ice. “Please, let me explain. The magic-”

Arthur snatched up his sword belt and warned, “Do as I say or I’ll treat you like the criminal you are.”

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Merlin tried to go to him. _“Please-”_

Arthur drew his sword. And though Arthur made no move to cross the distance between them, Merlin felt like he’d been struck, flayed to the bone. He took a step back, then another. 

“I’m sorry,” he choked out and ran. He didn’t know where he was going. He only knew that he needed to get away from those unforgiving cold eyes.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a tone shift between this part and the second, hopefully it won't be too jarring. Um, sorry in advance.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's lost his job, his friends, and Arthur. He just wants to go back to the way things used to be.

\---

Three weeks had passed since Merlin was fired. At first he waited for execution. But one day turned into the next with not a word from Arthur or an escort to the dungeons. Somehow this was worse, the constant waiting. 

Arthur refused to talk to him or see him, though sometimes Merlin caught him staring from afar. Arthur would always look away quickly.

To make matters worse, the whole household knew that Merlin had fallen out of the Prince’s favor. Their little love affair was not as well kept a secret downstairs as it had been upstairs, and their split had fed the gossip mill for days. Some of his fellow servants were sympathetic, but not enough to commit social suicide by siding with Merlin against the Prince. Even Gwen was avoiding him and, second to losing Arthur, that hurt the most.

Everything had fallen apart.

He should have listened to Gaius instead of losing himself in a silly day dream. The man he’d spent the past month with hadn’t been the real Arthur. Everything he'd said and felt--they were only the product of a witch’s spell. The real Arthur couldn’t even stand the sight of him now.

Against all expectation, Gaius didn't urge Merlin to flee Camelot upon hearing what had happened. Instead, he'd told him that Arthur needed time to come to terms with his magic, that Arthur was a better man than his father, that all Merlin could do now was give him space and trust in the destiny they shared. So Merlin gave Arthur space and watched the chasm between them grow wider and wider every day.

When it eventually became clear that Arthur wasn't going to anything about the magic, Merlin should've been relieved. Instead, he lay in bed every night, expensive silk sheets and down pillows shoved into the corner of the room, shivering not with fear but with grief. There was no relief because he hadn't been afraid, really. What was there to fear? The worst had already happened. He'd lost Arthur for good.

\---

One day, Merlin was making a delivery across the castle for Gaius when the sound of Arthur's muffled voice stopped him in his tracks and drew him to a nearby set of empty guest chambers. Careful not to make any noise, Merlin crept up and put his ear against the closed door. He could only make out a few words through the dense wood, and only then because Arthur was shouting.

_“...LIED to me for YEARS...trusted him...bastard...like a FOOL! And now I...new servant...can’t even…”_

Merlin felt sick. There was no question who Arthur was talking about. 

He sounded _furious_. But worse than that, he sounded hurt. Time and space had not softened him as Gaius had hoped. This was worse than the front of cold indifference Arthur had maintained ever since that horrible night, the pain in his voice spearing Merlin through the heart with guilt. Knowing he should leave but needing to hear more, Merlin peered through the keyhole. There was Arthur pacing in agitation and behind him a glimpse of lavender--Gwen. 

She said something too soft to hear but Arthur’s response was clear as a bell and would ring in Merlin's ears for days to come.

_“I hate him for doing this to me.”_

There was a tense pause. Through the keyhole, Merlin saw Gwen’s hand resting gently on Arthur’s arm, sliding down from shoulder to elbow and back in a soothing motion, her serious expression as she spoke. At her words, Arthur’s shoulders sagged and his head dipped low. He said something inaudible back and Gwen's hand came up to cup his cheek. Merlin couldn't see Arthur's face with his back to the door, so he didn't know what was making Gwen smile so fondly, or what put the glimmer in her eyes that might have been tears. As the two embraced, Merlin stepped away from the door and returned to his chores. He didn't need to see anything else.

\---

A few days later, Merlin was summoned to Arthur's chambers.

 _This is it,_ Merlin thought, _this is where he tells me to leave Camelot for good._

Seated at his desk, Arthur didn’t look up from his work when Merlin entered. “Close the door.”

Right. If they were about to have a shouting match over magic, they didn’t need anyone walking in from the hall. Obediently, Merlin did as he was told and felt a weight settle in his gut as the door clicked shut. For weeks, Arthur hadn't allowed Merlin anywhere near him and now here they were, alone together for the first time since everything went wrong. Taking a moment to steel himself, Merlin approached, ready with a speech he’d half-composed on the way up. “Arthur-”

“Sire,” Arthur corrected sharply, eyes still glued to the parchment in front of him.

The rebuke stung like it never had before, because this time Arthur meant it. “Sire,” Merlin amended, swallowing down the bitter taste in his mouth. “Please. Just. Give me a chance to explain and-”

Slamming his quill down, Arthur finally looked up but the icy hardness of his eyes made Merlin wish he hadn’t.

“You _will not_ speak out of turn. You have forfeited any privileges previously afforded to you. From this moment forward, you will behave as a proper servant should or you will lose your position. Again.”

Arthur had never spoken to Merlin this way, not even at the beginning. It was so jarring that Merlin didn't register his words right away and didn't understand them when he did.

“My position...?"

Arthur absently spun the ring on his thumb while he considered his answer, a familiar habit that made Merlin ache with missing him. “You’re to be reinstated as a servant in my household. Guinevere managed to convince me that this was the best way forward, so you have her to thank for this." He kept his expression carefully neutral, but Merlin's well-trained ear could hear the spite in his voice, "I told her everything, of course. If anything should happen to me, someone I trust should know who to blame.”

Merlin flinched, “You have to know I’d never hurt you, Arthur.”

_“Sire."_

They stared each other down, one pleading and the other immovable. 

Merlin looked away first and mumbled, “...Sire.”

Appeased, Arthur took up his quill again and returned his full attention to the documents on his desk, speaking with absent indifference, “Don’t worry. I haven’t told anyone besides Gwen that you are a-” His mouth flattened. “-a sorcerer. And that includes the King. You won’t be arrested for the magic so long as you do not use it to harm anyone within my kingdom. Perhaps it's a mistake to spare you. My father would have me believe that in doing so I am dooming us all. But Gwen would kill me if I turned you in. She swears she has full confidence in you, so I've decided to trust her judgement, since clearly I cannot trust my own.”

A memory, nearly two months old now, resurfaced.

 _“I don’t_ feel _enchanted, but if you say so, it must be true. I trust your judgment, Merlin.”_

Breaking Arthur's trust in Merlin had broken his trust in himself, as well, which had always been fragile to begin with. Merlin wanted to defend himself and explain that Arthur hadn't been wrong to trust him because he had Merlin's complete, unshakable loyalty. But he couldn't find the right words to say so that wouldn't just make Arthur angrier.

“However,” Arthur continued with an edge of warning, “Just because I will allow you your freedom does not mean I will allow you out of my sight. I’ve reinstated your position so that I can keep an eye on you. If you wish to prove yourself a loyal citizen of Camelot, then return to your duties and stay out of trouble. If you put a single toe out of line, I will know and you will regret it. Is that clear?”

“...Perfectly, Sire.”

“You will no longer be squiring for me,” Arthur tossed in apathetically, though he _knew_ that was the only part of the job Merlin ever took seriously because it meant that Arthur needed him by his side for every battle. “You will now answer to George. Report to him for a list of chores and further instruction." Then Arthur dipped his quill in the ink pot, signaling the end of their conversation. "You are dismissed.”

The _scritch scritch_ of the quill nib against parchment filled the silence between them, the repetition stirring the anxiety already swirling in Merlin's gut. Arthur continued to write as though Merlin was not still there, hovering awkwardly on the other side of his desk, wordlessly begging Arthur to look up and _see_ him.

Merlin couldn't take it anymore. “Please, just let me explain," he stepped forward and let everything he'd been holding back for the last three weeks spill out of him, "I was going to tell you about the magic, I swear--I never meant to betray your trust--but I did, I _know_ I did--and I should’ve broken the spell sooner--I wasn't thinking--and _I’m sorry_ -”

Arthur’s fist slammed onto the table with a bang. He abandoned all pretense of ignoring Merlin, glaring at him fiercely. “I did not give you leave to speak!”

Merlin struggled to say around the lump in his throat, “Arthur, I’m _sorry-”_

 _“Enough."_ Arthur leaned forward and said, in a voice that was dangerously low, a voice that was not to be disobeyed, “Get out of here before I lose my patience.”

Merlin retreated and it wasn’t until he’d put two floors between him and Arthur that he finally let himself cry.

\---

George was as insufferable as ever. Somehow Merlin had _more_ chores now than he did when he'd held the lofty position of the Prince's personal servant. In addition to refilling the Prince's carafe and wash basin twice a day so the water would always be fresh, and replacing the candles went they burned too low, and carrying firewood up three flights of stairs twice a week, he was also assigned some of the same things he'd been doing for years. As before, he was to fetch the Prince's breakfast in the mornings, though someone else would now take care of lunch and dinner. Merlin assumed this was to lessen the chances of him slipping a deadly potion into the food. It was also Merlin’s job to wake the Prince, but he was always up before Merlin arrived. Probably because he was expecting Merlin to ensorcell him in his sleep.

It was also Merlin's duty to dress the Prince for his morning affairs, a stressful experience all around. Instead of maintaining a formal distance, as Merlin had expected, Arthur took these moments as an opportunity to study Merlin like a pinned insect. He would press just a little closer than was proper, daring Merlin to retreat or perhaps taunting him with a reminder of the false intimacy they’d shared under the spell. Not backing down, Merlin went through the motions every day, pretending not to notice Arthur’s breath against his neck or the piercing blue eyes that watched him so very closely.

The worse thing about his new list of chores was what _wasn't_ on it. Someone else was trusted to tend to Arthur’s armor and sword, now kept in the armory. Merlin was no longer permitted access to the armory. None of this had gone unnoticed by the knights, who were aware of Merlin and Arthur's falling out, but not the reason for it. When Gwaine and Leon approached Merlin out of concern one day he’d been unable to muster up a convincing lie, so he slipped away with a claim that he was too busy to talk. The knights kept a watchful eye on him after that, growing more worried by the day.

The only indication that Arthur cared at all was how much time he was now spending with Gwen. Now and then Merlin would see them together having a private conversation, Arthur looking tense and unhappy, Gwen’s fingers combing through his hair. He'd stopped trying to eavesdrop after the last time but he always ended up hearing enough to know they were talking about him.

Still, Merlin didn’t give up. Again and again he tried to talk to Arthur about what happened between them, but each and every time he was sent away. He found himself in the stocks more now than he had even in his first year in Camelot. Uther, at least, was pleased.

These days, Arthur never breathed a word to Merlin that wasn’t either an order or a reprimand. But sometimes he’d watch Merlin with the most intense look in his eyes, always searching, though for what Merlin didn't know. He no longer seemed to care about getting caught staring and now Merlin was the one who always looked away first. He felt Arthur’s eyes wherever he went and wondered if this, too, was a punishment. 

\---

There was a commotion in the courtyard, heralding the return of Arthur’s patrol. It was a woeful, bloody procession. Only half of their number had come back alive and the few who could still walk were holding up the ones who couldn’t. Arthur, unconscious, was being carried into the castle. 

Merlin dropped the armful of firewood he'd been holding and ran towards them. But the way to Arthur was blocked by one of the knights, this one bleeding heavily from the temple and glaring at Merlin like he wasn’t worth the mud on his boots. He must have been newly knighted because Merlin didn’t know him and he obviously didn't know Merlin.

“Run along, serving boy. Go find something else to gawk at,” he sneered. 

Merlin said through gritted teeth, “I’m the physician’s assistant, you helmet-headed turnip, now--let--me-- _through!”_

The knight didn't budge and behind him Arthur was taken into the castle and out of sight. Merlin tried to force his way past the wall of muscle and armor blocking his path but was easily pushed to the ground. Before the outraged knight could do anything else, Leon appeared and pointedly stepped between him and Merlin.

“Back off, Sir Gareth, he’s a friend of the Prince.”

Gareth snorted. “I’ve seen the Prince ordering him about like a dog, that don't seem very friendly to me.”

“Then he’s _my_ friend. So move along,” said Leon with some steel in his voice. With no choice but to defer to his superior, Gareth slouched away, muttering about having better things to do than discipline the peasantry.

Leon helped Merlin to his feet and dusted him off. “Alright there, Merlin?”

“I’m fine. Thank you,” said Merlin, embarrassed. Giving Leon a once-over, he was glad to see that his injuries looked minor. “What happened out there?”

Leon’s expression turned grim. “We were hunting what we thought was a pack of wild wolves that's been terrorizing a village up north.”

“You 'thought' they were wolves?”

Leon paused and shook his head. “No. They _were_ wolves, but there was something wrong with them. Their eyes glowed and they seemed impervious to pain. Normally, even rabid wolves will run when they can no longer defend themselves, but these wolves fought until their bodies were ripped apart. As if they were possessed.” He deflated. “We lost eight men. Arthur took a bad hit, but Gwaine and Elyan are hurt worse. The rest of us are lucky to be alive.”

 _They wouldn't have needed luck if I'd been there...but I wasn't and Arthur nearly died,_ Merlin realized, feeling cold all over.

Some time later, after personally taking care of Leon’s wounds, Merlin followed Gaius up to the Prince’s quarters. His stomach churned to see Arthur bruised and bleeding and to not know how it happened, only that it happened while Arthur was miles out of reach and Merlin was cluelessly laying in his bed counting dust motes. 

Under Gaius’ judgmental eye, Merlin whispered a spell to ease the pain a little while Arthur slept. He’d always been terrible at healing spells, but he could do this much at least. Arthur's breathing came easier and Merlin allowed himself a moment to card a hand through his blood-matted hair. He worked with Gaius well into the night tending to the other survivors, too. Gwaine and Elyan both required surgery, but Gaius was confident they would make it. They ended up losing one man to septicemia, leaving the final death count at nine. 

As Merlin prepared the body for the funeral pyre, all he could think was: _What if it had been Arthur?_

This couldn’t go on. It was Merlin’s destiny to protect him. Nothing in this world or the next could stop him from doing that. Not even Arthur himself.

When Merlin stormed into the Prince's chambers the next morning, it was to find Arthur already awake. Again. Even though it was just after sunrise and Arthur was _supposed_ to be resting.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Merlin snapped.

Arthur seemed surprised at his nerve. The surprise quickly turned to anger. “What did I tell you about speaking out of turn?”

With a sharp gesture, Merlin slammed Arthur's door shut from halfway across the room. The deafening bang was followed by a tense silence.

Merlin advanced, growling, “I’m done waiting my turn. I’m talking _now_ and you’re going to shut up and listen!”

Arthur’s eyes flashed, but he said nothing.

Feeling taller and angrier with every step, Merlin stopped at the foot of the bed and glared. “I get it, Arthur. You hate me. You can’t trust me. But like it or not, you need me. Your bloody knights need me. I’m your only defense against magical attacks and you know it, so the next time you go on one of your stupidly dangerous quests, you're going to take me with you.”

Arthur looked about a minute away from punching him. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming in here and making demands.”

Unmoved, Merlin crossed his arms. “I’m not asking for permission. I’m telling you that you can’t stop me.”

“Is that a threat?”

Merlin felt the anger drain from him, leaving behind only iron conviction. He met Arthur's suspicion head on and whatever showed in his face seemed to give Arthur pause. Merlin vowed, “I’ll never use my magic against you, Arthur. Never. But unless you’re willing to kill me yourself, nothing’s going to keep me from protecting you with it.”

With that, Merlin let himself out, leaving just as quickly as he came, and Arthur said nothing to stop him.

\---

The next attack struck closer to home and it was only by chance that Merlin was around when it happened. He'd just gone into the lower town to do some shopping when something small and brown plummeted out of the sky and slammed onto street with enough force to send clumps of dirt flying. It had landed just inches away from a young girl, who took one look at what had almost hit her and screamed hysterically for her mother. Merlin moved forward with a few others to help and almost gagged when he saw the thing impacted into the dirt at the girl's feet.

It was a sparrow. Or it used to be. It appeared to have struck the ground with such force that its body had burst like a rotten tomato on impact. All that was left was a gruesome lump of feathers and entrails.

Everything happened very quickly after that. Looking up, Merlin couldn't believe his eyes. Dozens--maybe hundreds--of small birds wheeled high above Camelot in a dark maelstrom that blotted out the sun and cast the lower town in a swirling pall of shadow. As he watched, a line of them broke away from the whole and shot down from the sky like a volley of arrows.

“Take cover!” Merlin shouted.

Sparrows fell like hail from the sky, punching holes in straw roofs, upsetting vendor tables, sending their wares flying, and painting the footpaths with viscera. It was chaos as everyone still out on the street scrambled to safety, screaming in horror and confusion. They ran for every open doorway with bloodied, scratched arms held over their heads, and Merlin sheltered himself in a shadowy alcove where he could use his magic without fear of being seen. He spotted the miller’s wife hobbling to safety with help from her son, her shoulder bleeding where the beak of a bird was firmly lodged. When she stumbled, Merlin steadied her with a subtle spell and watched over the two until they were safely indoors.

As the birds continued to attack, Merlin fended them off as covertly as he could and discovered that they weren't just mindlessly diving. They were trying to _maim_ and Merlin could barely keep up. He broke the wings of a bird that was tearing a maiden’s hair from her scalp, and in the next breath felled another before it could bury its beak in a man's skull, and in the next saved a woman from having her eyes gouged out but not from the nasty scar she'd forever have marring half of her face.

And then, finally, the knights arrived. Arthur was among them, herding the stragglers to safety while swinging his sword ineffectively at the air. Arthur and his knights were able to strike some of the birds out of the sky with this way, but it was a hopeless, though valiant, effort. They were simply too numerous and too small to fight. 

But not for Merlin.

There was a spell he sometimes used to cull small animals. It was primarily meant for pest control or to help Gaius with with mice and frogs he cut up for ingredients, but he’d also used a few times when he was alone in the woods and desperate for a meal. He'd caught plenty of rabbits and squirrels that way, but not very many birds. Birds were quicker, always hard to get a lock on, especially in flight. He wasn't entirely sure this was going to work.

As a test, Merlin honed in on one faraway sparrow, a soaring speck in the sky, and spoke the familiar words. It kept flitting out of his grasp, as if it knew the danger it was in, but he managed to catch it on the third attempt. He felt a grim sort of satisfaction watching its still body drop out of the air.

It took all of his concentration to work through the others. He killed them in small batches at a time. One dozen here, another there. He made sure to get them when they weren’t too high up to lessen the impact of their falling bodies. The knights alternated between killing the ones Merlin missed and gaping slack-jawed at the wave of death steadily decimating the thinning flock above. 

A couple hundred dead birds later and it was over. Merlin slumped back into the alcove, feeling tired and dirty from taking so many lives with his magic. He knew he'd only been putting them out of their misery, but that knowledge didn’t make him feel any better. 

Out on the street, Arthur was telling his knights to tend to the wounded and make damn sure all the birds were dead. He appeared nearly as tired as Merlin, but aside from a few cuts and bloody feathers clinging to his armor, he seemed fine. Merlin let out a sigh of relief. Arthur was safe and Merlin had done his part. He figured that earned him a magically hot bath and a nap. 

He was about to sneak away when Arthur abruptly turned and looked _directly at him._ He froze, pinned in place by Arthur’s searching eyes, piercingly bright even at a distance. How long had Arthur known he was there? What had he seen? Merlin held his breath. Such a blatant and public use of magic surely violated some condition of Arthur's tenuous clemency. Would he turn Merlin in? Or worse, accuse him of being behind the attack? Self-preservation told Merlin to run, but loyalty and stubbornness stuck his feet to the ground. But the axe never fell. After a drawn out staring match, Arthur turned away without a word, expression hard and, Merlin belatedly noticed, a small bird clenched in his fist.

Merlin never did get his bath, but by the time he and Gaius had finished treating the victims of the attack, he was so exhausted he probably would have fallen asleep in the tub and drowned, anyway, so he was content to fill his belly and immediately crawl into bed. After the final patient had gone and the sun had long set, Merlin and Gaius sat down for a late supper, over which they discussed the strange events of the day and what might have caused it. Gaius scolded Merlin for using magic so publicly, saying that what he'd done was so extraordinary that anyone with even the most elementary understanding of the Old Religion would recognize it as the work of someone very powerful. It wasn't anything Merlin hadn't heard before, but he still promised to be careful. Gaius snorted disbelievingly, but left it at that.

Merlin was just telling Gaius how glad he was that he didn’t have to be the one to clean the bird guts off of Arthur’s armor, Arthur himself strode into the infirmary. In his hands he carried a bird cage, covered by a muslin cloth. Merlin's mouth snapped shut and he sat up straighter. His entrance effectively dispelled the friendly atmosphere of Gaius' workshop.

“What can I do for you, Sire?” asked Gaius, putting down his utensils.

In lieu of answering, Arthur set the cage onto the table and lifted the cloth away to reveal its contents. There at the bottom lay a tree sparrow, small enough to easily fit in the palm of Merlin's hand. Merlin thought it was dead until its eyes snapped open, shining a sickening yellow. It sprung to life and shot off from the cage's base with an ear-splitting screech, wings flapping furiously as it raged against the boundaries of its prison, beating itself bloody against the bars in its mindless fury.

“Figure out how to undo this curse,” Arthur said over the clamor. Alight with silent challenge, his eyes met Merlin's. “You have a day.”

Merlin’s jaw dropped. “You expect us to do this _in one day?”_

“You had better, because we’re heading out on another hunt in two.” Briskly taking his leave, Arthur tossed over his shoulder, “Day after tomorrow, Merlin. Be there at dawn or we’ll leave without you.”

## \---

Gwen pulled him aside just before dawn, appearing out of nowhere while he was preparing his horse in the stables. She had to have been waiting for him.

"Gwen. You're up early,” Merlin said, painfully awkward. They'd barely spoken since all of this began, which was only partially Gwen's fault. After initially giving him the cold shoulder, she'd tried to approach him a few times but Merlin never stuck around to hear what she had to say. He couldn't face her disappointment and, though it shamed him to admit it, he was envious of her closeness with Arthur. So when she would come to him with her sad eyes and furrowed brow, he fled like a coward and tried not to think about the flash of hurt that came across her face every time.

Looking at her now, so earnestly worried and not a little frustrated, Merlin knew he couldn't avoid this conversation any longer.

Fidgeting like she used to when they were younger, she said, “Yes, um...I heard you were riding out with Arthur and the others?”

“Yeah, it's...yeah. I am."

She bit her lip. “Do you think that's wise? I mean--you’ll be travelling together for days, maybe longer and you're barely speaking as it is. And, well, you see why I’d be concerned...”

Merlin made a weak attempt at a joke but it came out too bitter, “Worried I’ll use my evil powers to kill Arthur in his sleep?”

It was the wrong thing to say. In all their years of friendship, Merlin had never found himself on the receiving end of Gwen's rarely roused temper, but right now she looked like she wanted to slap him. 

Awkwardness forgotten, she snapped, “You should know I don’t care about any of that. I've already lost my father and Morgana to Uther's bloody crusade, and now that they're gone you’re the closest thing I have to family right now, Merlin, I’ll be damned if I have to lose you, too!” Gwen's voice wobbled towards the end but her angry eyes never wavered. 

Merlin shrunk under their glare. Sorry and ashamed, he hung his head. “I’ve been such a horrible friend.” 

“Just a bit,” Gwen sniffled, deflating slightly.

“I’m so sorry I never told you about my magic.”

“No, Merlin," she shook her head, "Never apologize for that. I saw what that kind of fear did to Morgana. I understand and I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me.”

“But you _are_ mad,” Merlin guessed.

“I’m...disappointed." He mouth twisted. "And, fine, yes, maybe I was a little angry on Arthur’s behalf at the beginning.”

“Only at the beginning?”

Smiling sadly, Gwen said, “I know you never meant to hurt him. And I feel so much better knowing you’re going to be there to protect him now. What I’m worried about is _you._ I know that Arthur isn’t happy with you right now...”

Merlin tried to return her smile and didn't quite manage it. “You mean he hates me. You don’t have to beat around the bush about it, Gwen. Arthur never does.”

The last bit of hardness melted away from Gwen’s eyes, leaving only sympathy and love. “Oh, Merlin, one day it’s going to be better. He’ll forgive you, I know it."

Merlin stiffened when she suddenly pulled him in for a crushing hug, but gratefully hugged her back, realizing in that moment how much he'd missed her. 

Chin resting over his shoulder, she whispered, "I'm still rooting for you."

\---

An hour later, as they all mounted their horses in the courtyard, Merlin saw Gwen speaking quietly to Arthur, too far away to hear. When Arthur suddenly turned and their gazes locked, Merlin, as always, was the first to look away.

\---

Arthur had wanted a small group of his most trusted knights joining him on this quest, taking only Leon, Elyan, Percival, and Gwaine. He’d even decided to go without his new squire, leaving Merlin to squire for all of them like he used to do. The knights had been delighted to learn that he was coming. In fact, Gwaine and Elyan were technically still recovering from the wolf attack, but when they heard Merlin was going to be there, they insisted on coming, too. 

The reason for their enthusiasm became clear as Merlin overheard them whispering to each other several times about “The Arthur-and-Merlin Situation." Apparently, they hoped to orchestrate a reconciliation by contriving circumstances that forced the two of them together. So far, it wasn’t working. 

“Everywhere else is taken, Sire, why don't you go sit with Merlin?” 

“Arthur and Merlin can mind the camp while the rest of us collect firewood. Yes, it _is_ a four man job.”

“Oh, Merlin, could you pass on a message to Arthur for me? I’d go talk to him myself, but as you can see, I’m busy skinning these rabbits for lunch and...”

Merlin really wished they'd leave off. Their efforts, well meaning as they were, only made Arthur's disdain for Merlin all the more obvious. It didn’t matter whether they were sitting together or on opposite ends of camp, Arthur refused to acknowledge Merlin's presence. Having some pride left, Merlin tried to do the same. 

He was fully determined to ignore Arthur back, but the longer they spent around each other the harder it was not to fall into old habits. Sometimes Merlin would succumb to instinct and turn to ask Arthur for a drink from his waterskin or to toss him another stick for the fire, before he awkwardly remembered they weren’t speaking anymore. Gratifyingly though, Arthur seemed to be having the same problem. Once while Merlin was preparing dinner, Arthur kept looking over at him in obvious frustration, like he wanted to correct his grip on the knife.

And Merlin couldn't help but notice that for all that Arthur was determined to ignore Merlin's very existence, he still stared at him. A lot. Probably watching out for signs of treachery, Merlin thought wryly. Once he'd stared a long time at Merlin's boots, which had confused him until he remembered that these were the same fur-lined boots that the enchanted Arthur had gifted him. Merlin hadn't even thought twice when he'd packed them. He'd braced himself for the explosion but it never came and Arthur had gone on to pointedly ignore both Merlin and his boots.

But even with all the tension between him and Arthur, it felt _good_ to travel with the knights again. Because for the first time in a while, Merlin felt wanted. The knights joked and rough housed with him like nothing had changed and Merlin supposed that, with them, nothing had.

\---

They travelled for days, following tales of unnatural animal attacks from one village to the next. The story was always the same: somewhere in the woods there was an animal with yellow eyes that could not be killed or chased away. But every forest they searched came up empty, as if whatever had been plaguing the villages had known they were coming and fled. These weren't the actions of an animal. Something or someone was controlling them. 

As they journeyed, Merlin explained this to the knights and told them what he and Gaius had learned in their research. This was the work of a powerful curse which bound a creature's mind and body to the will of the caster. It explained why the wolves that attacked them had fought until their bodies were too broken to move. Only death or freedom from the curse would be able to stop them. Merlin gave them each a potion and told them to coat their weapons with it. It would ‘purify’ the animals of evil, he said, thereby undoing the magic. 

Only Merlin and Arthur knew that the ‘potion’ was just scented and colored oil. A curse this strong could only be broken with a stronger counter-curse. Merlin and Gaius had tried out several incantations on the caged sparrow Arthur had left them and finally came across one that worked some hours after midnight. It was similar to the one he’d used to break Arthur’s love spell but it required more power from the caster, leaving Merlin drowsy after successfully curing the bird (which had then swiftly died from its wounds). He feared what using it on a larger animal like a wolf would do to him, but he’d just have to push through.

One night after another fruitless search in another monster-less forest, they made camp and settled in to sleep. Merlin was deep in a dream about blood-covered sparrows screaming at him in Arthur’s voice when he was shaken violently awake. Confused and bleary, Merlin tried and failed to make out who'd woken him in the pitch dark. The sound of ringing metal and men shouting came from somewhere far away.

Suddenly he was being pulled up and onto his feet. “You need to take one of the horses and run,” someone whispered urgently into his ear.

“Elyan?” Merlin squinted, trying to see the shadowed curves of his face in the starlight. “It’s too dark to ride--Elyan? What’s going on? Wait-”

But Elyan was already gone, his hurried footsteps fading as he ran towards the distant sounds of violence. Merlin stumbled after him, tripping over rocks and tree roots he couldn't see. He followed Elyan to an area where the forest had thankfully thinned, allowing more light through for Merlin to see the obvious source of the commotion.

The shape of it was strange and at first Merlin thought it was some magical beast. But as his eyes adjusted, he saw that the thing looming over the knights was actually a massive bear standing on its hind legs, its glowing eyes blinding in the midnight gloom. 

The others had it surrounded, but they looked a little worse for wear. Percival's sword arm bloody and limp at his side, weapon nowhere to be seen. Having been on watch he must have been the first hit, but some of the others were also moving painfully. Merlin sighed in relief when he spotted Arthur unhurt and hefting a hunting spear.

The bear barreled down upon them with thundering steps, heavy paws smacking the earth. It bellowed like a thing from hell and Arthur led the charge with an answering battle cry. They stabbed and slashed at the enormous body until blood poured thickly from its amply split flesh and fouled the air with the coppery musk of death. If it had been a normal bear they surely would have killed it by now. But the wounds didn't even slow it down. It took a crossbow bolt to the neck and barely flinched. They could poke holes into its body all night long and it wouldn't tire, not like Arthur and the others would. Their luck would run out soon if Merlin didn’t do something.

Ducking behind a tree, he tried to cast the spell. Nothing happened. Frustrated, he spoke the incantation again, louder this time. Still nothing. Maybe he needed to be closer.

Abandoning his hiding spot, he scrabbled forward while trying to make as little noise as possible. When he was within a stone's throw of the fighting, he said the spell again. This time he felt something happening...but the magic fizzled to nothing before it could take shape. He cursed. He kept trying, but a bear was so much _bigger_ than a bird. Hands raised, he _pushed_ his magic out and practically shouted the spell.

The bear stopped in its tracks. Its hulking body tensed and swayed and for a moment Merlin thought he'd done it. But then it gave a great shake and threw off Merlin's flimsy spell with a roar. Enraged, the bear lashed out and a huge swiping paw caught Arthur in the chest. Knocked onto his back, Arthur could do nothing as the bear bent down and snarled in his face.

“Arthur!” 

Merlin ran forward as fast as his feet could carry him, hand stretched before him in desperation. The words for the strongest stunning spell he knew exploded from his lips. The force of it blasted the bear clear off of its feet. It landed several yards away, hitting a tree hard enough to splinter chunks off the trunk. 

Merlin panted, the realization of what he'd done in full view of the knights crashing over him. 

Arthur groaned, breaking the shocked silence.

Merlin hurried over and helped him up. “Anything broken?”

Arthur shook his hands off but couldn't repress a wince. “I’m _fine._ Just tell me you can stop that thing.”

“I can,” Merlin promised just as the bear recovered and came charging through the trees once more. 

Planting himself in front of Arthur and the others, Merlin brought both hands up and shouted the counter-curse. Even before he'd finished the incantation, he knew it would work. His magic sunk into the bear's body and washed away the taint of the curse, extinguishing the yellow light from its eyes like a candle flame.

Suddenly limp, it crashed onto its belly in a broken heap just steps away from where they stood. Its brown eyes slid shut and rattling, wheezing breaths puffed weakly from its nose. Just like the bird, it wouldn’t survive, not with those wounds. 

Merlin glanced at Arthur, who gave him a grim nod. Murmuring a quiet apology, Merlin used the culling spell to end its suffering.

Somewhere to Merlin's right, Gwaine whispered, “Holy fuck."

Merlin clenched his fists. 

_Now I'm going to lose them, too._

Bracing himself for rejection (though he wasn't sure how much more he could take), he turned around to meet four sets of wide eyes. He tensed when he saw Leon's sword halfway raised. Gods above, if he had to fight his friends...

Arthur stepped in before anyone could recover enough to say anything.

Steady and unapologetic, he met the confused gazes of his knights and said, “I knew about Merlin’s magic and he used it on my orders. This was always part of the plan,” he assured confidently, though Merlin privately thought that the only thing that had actually gone to plan was the fact that no one died.

“You _knew?”_ Gwaine exclaimed. “Before I did?!”

Elyan and Percival exchanged a look, but seemed more stunned than angry.

To Merlin's relief, Leon lowered his sword. “Sire, you know how dangerous magic is," he said, frowning deeply. "I don't understand how you could ask this of Merlin.”

“He’d have done it without me telling him to. He’s been doing this sort of thing behind our backs for years,” Arthur told them, to shocked silence. Refusing to look at Merlin, he wryly said, “I’d wager none of us would be alive today if not for his magic.”

Stunned, Merlin was at a loss for words. It seemed the others were, too. They were all staring at Merlin as if seeing him for the first time.

Arthur added, “You will not breathe a word of this to _anyone,_ am I understood?”

“Yes, Sire,” they chorused.

With one last inscrutable look at Merlin, Arthur nodded sharply and headed back to the campsite, leaving Merlin alone with the knights. 

Swallowing nervously, Merlin waited for their verdict...and yelped in surprise when Percival gave him a too-strong congratulatory slap on the back. When Merlin nearly pitched forward onto his face, Percy scrambled to apologize and, just like that, the tension was broken. Suddenly all the others, even Leon, were crowding around him, asking tentative questions and clasping him on the shoulder.

Overwhelmed and misty eyed, Merlin glanced up and saw Arthur had stopped to watch. Merlin spared him a watery smile, thinking, _Thank you._ The nod Arthur gave in return was so small Merlin might have imagined it.

\---

The knights made sure to include Merlin in everything, correctly guessing that he was feeling insecure about them knowing his secret. Leon remained a little uncertain, but he was trying and Merlin was so incredibly fond of him for it. They’d all sit around the fire and come up with fanciful new battle strategies that incorporated Merlin’s abilities. These mainly involved Merlin blowing up all their enemies with his mind, though Merlin explained many times that he didn't know how to do that. Gwaine suggested Merlin turn himself into a gnat and annoy their enemies to surrender, which led to an argument over what animal form would be the most useful for him to take in a fight and Merlin being too amused to tell them he couldn't do that, either.

In a quiet moment away from the others, Gwaine found him and asked, “All this ugly business between you and the Princess. It’s because he found out about the magic, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t the whole story, but Merlin awkwardly nodded. 

“That emotionally stunted cocksucker,” growled Gwaine. “He asked you to do magic and he's still not okay with it?”

Merlin hesitated. “I thought he wasn’t. But now I'm not so sure." Merlin had every reason to think that Arthur was still mad about the magic, given the way he'd been acting. But what he'd said to the others... 

Gwaine pursed his lips in thought. “Arthur is a lot of things, but a hypocrite isn’t one of them. I don’t think he’d ask for magical help if he still shared daddy’s views.” When Merlin remained glum, Gwaine threw an arm over his shoulders and gave him a good squeeze. “Well, just say the word and I’ll give Arthur a talking to. Knock some sense into that princely head of his.”

“If only it were that simple."

Gwaine winked, “Love rarely is.”

Merlin flushed, then paled. “No. No, Arthur never cared for me that way.”

“Aw, don’t give up so easily, mate. I know what lovesick looks like, having been there myself many times over, and Princess has got it bad-”

“Please, Gwaine,” Merlin begged, eyes squeezed shut. “Just don’t.”

Gwaine’s grin fell away. Reluctantly, he let the subject drop. He was quiet for a bit and then nudged Merlin with a shoulder.

“It’ll get better, mate,” Gwaine promised.

And, to Merlin's surprise, it did.

Bit by bit, Arthur was thawing. His commitment to ignoring Merlin began to crumble. Sometimes it was little comments, Arthur speaking to him even when it wasn't necessary. 

“Make sure to tie those reigns tightly, Merlin. Llamrei has been picking at them lately.”

Or it was Arthur pointing out signs of wildlife, just like he used to do in his futile attempts to teach Merlin survival skills. 

“There under those leaves. Rodent droppings. Keep an eye out for rabbits and step lightly.”

Merlin didn’t want to look too deeply into it. But one day they were all riding, the two of them trailing out of earshot behind the others, and Arthur suddenly said, “Didn’t I give you a cloak to go with those boots?”

Merlin stared. This was the first time Arthur had directly acknowledged what happened between them.

Arthur went on without waiting for a response, which was fortunate because Merlin didn't have one. “It was blue. I remember picking it because of your eyes, but what I really wanted to do was dress you in red.”

He said it casually, as if the words wouldn't keep Merlin up all night. Arthur seemed to be done talking after that, riding the rest of the way in silence, and Merlin didn't know what to make of it.

The strange behavior didn’t stop there. 

There was the time when Arthur, out of nowhere, decided Merlin’s neckerchief was too annoyingly crooked to leave alone. Instead of telling Merlin to fix it, he began to untie it himself. They stood in each other’s space while he plucked leisurely at the knot. Confused but not protesting for reasons he didn’t want to examine, Merlin held his breath and tried not to blush and, failing that, tried to at least look like he wasn't about to jump out of his own skin. 

Finally, the knot came apart. The tickle of Arthur's soft breaths against his bared neck was chased by the barely-there brush of his fingers as he pulled the cloth away. Merlin couldn’t suppress a shiver. Was this how Arthur felt when Merlin undressed him every morning? 

He thought he saw a flash of amusement in Arthur’s eyes, but then he blinked and it was gone.

“I don’t know how to tie one of these things,” shrugged Arthur, dumping the neckerchief into Merlin’s lap. “Try to get it on straight this time.” 

And then he walked away, leaving Merlin breathless and confused.

The combination of Arthur's change in attitude and the acceptance of the knights made Merlin reckless. Feeling a bit like showing off, he used his magic to set up camp one night. The knights were gratifyingly impressed and, encouraged, he hammed it up, making firewood dance and clearing away leaves with a swirling wind. He hadn't meant for Arthur to catch him in the act. 

Instead of shouting like Merlin expected, Arthur just said, “Neat trick. Was it invented by a lazy sorcerer who couldn’t be bothered to do his chores?”

It was reflex to shoot back, “Says the lazy prince who pays other people to make his bed.”

The knights laughed and Arthur rolled his eyes and it was just like old times again. Merlin’s heart soared.

## \---

Almost a week had passed since the bear incident and they hadn’t found a single other yellow-eyed animal. Aware that they were all tired of sleeping on the cold ground, Arthur suggested they take a detour to the nearest village with an inn. By some lucky coincidence, it happened to be the same one Arthur and Merlin had saved from a chimera earlier that year, which guaranteed them a warm welcome and open beds.

When they got there, however, there wasn’t a soul in sight. The dusty little streets were completely deserted, the crops and livestock unattended. Thinking perhaps that everyone had gone indoors, they called out but no one answered. When they looked into the houses, every last one was empty. As were the barn, the inn, and the tavern, where half-empty tankards of ale sat on empty tables and lonely coats hung on the backs of empty chairs. 

Elyan found a hefty coin pouch in one of the jackets and put it back, perturbed. “No bodies or signs of struggle. It’s like everyone just disappeared.”

“Creepy,” added Gwaine helpfully.

“But where could they have gone?” asked Leon.

“That’s easy,” Merlin said, leaning out the back door where he could see a muddy little garden through which several someone's had carelessly trampled. A trail of mud led away into the forest. “Just follow the footprints.”

Most of the tracks had been washed away by a recent shower so following them turned out to be far less easy than Merlin had hoped. When night fell and they could barely see their own feet, it became near impossible to find the trail.

They’d been walking in circles for what felt forever when they heard a twig snap off to the right. Then another on the left. And then behind. They all stood stock still. Merlin got ready to defend against an attack from any direction and knew the others were doing the same. 

Shuffling sounds came from all around them and suddenly there were what looked like a hundred pairs of yellow eyes glinting in the dark spaces between the trees like jaundiced stars. Emerging from the shadows were the missing villagers, drooling and snarling like rabid beasts, the glow of their eyes casting strange shadows over their sunken features. 

Not moving, Arthur said quietly, “These aren’t animals, these are people of Camelot. There are..." Arthur's jaw tightened. "...There are children among them."

"What do we do?" Leon whispered. 

"Defend yourselves, but use no lethal force,” said Arthur, sheathing his sword. 

Easier said than done. The possessed villagers lunched with clawed with hands and mouths open, ready to scratch and bite. Merlin tried to gently push them back with his magic, but he couldn’t do much without hurting them. Their only option was to run. 

Finding a gap in the sea of bodies, Merlin called, “This way!” 

They all raced after him, the horde not far behind. 

“Do something, Merlin!” Arthur shouted.

“I’m trying!” Merlin gasped.

But what could he do? There was no point in attempting the counter-curse. Even if he could aim straight while running, he'd never be able to do all of them at once. He could maybe free three or four at a time, but they'd just end up being swallowed by the rest of the mob or trampled.

Arthur raised his voice so everyone could hear him, “Draw them away! That hill we passed on the way here--GO!” 

The others seemed to know what he was talking about and took off in a new direction. Before Merlin could follow, Arthur grabbed his arm and dragged him behind a thick bush where they hid until the villagers had all thundered past in their pursuit of the others. As soon as the coast was clear, Arthur sprung up and ran full tilt after them, shouting for Merlin to keep up. 

Merlin thought they'd be catching up to the knights, but Arthur led him to the top of a large hill which Merlin only vaguely remembered seeing earlier in the day. From their new vantage point, they could see their friends down below giving chase, followed by droves of crazed villagers.

Arthur sank into a crouch and pulled Merlin down with him. He kept his voice low. “Can you do the spell from here?”

Could he? Just the thought of trying made Merlin wince. But he grit his teeth and nodded anyway. After taking a moment to steel himself, he stuck out his hands, dipped deep into the bottomless well inside him and said the incantation. Over and over, extending his magic as far as it could go. He started from the back of the crowd, casting his magic over one handful of villagers at a time. Once free, they stopped and were left behind by the mad crowd. Most collapsed in pain and exhaustion. The children cried and the few adults who managed to stay on their feet appeared too terrified to move. 

Merlin cast the spell over a dozen times, thinning the herd at an agonizingly slow pace.

When the final villager was freed, Merlin collapsed onto his hands and knees, gasping. He had a brief battle with his stomach but just managed to keep his lunch down, though the world was still spinning so he wasn't sure how long that would last. 

“I never want to do that again,” he panted, forehead pressed to the cold grass.

He felt Arthur's hand squeeze his shoulder briefly. “Well done.”

Merlin hesitantly lifted his head, just enough to see that Arthur was gazing down at him with something like pride.

## \---

They escorted everyone back to the village, doing their best to treat the injured and see them safely to their homes. The villagers were all deeply shaken by their ordeal but there wasn't much any of them could do to ease their lingering fear. The innkeeper, who'd recovered just enough to throw on a smile and welcome them into her lodging free of charge, had shut herself in her room right after giving them the key to the pantry and telling them to help themselves. They only took as much food as they needed. There would be no victory feast this time. Not that any of them felt particularly victorious.

There were three rooms at the inn, enough for them to share in pairs. Proving that they still hadn't taken the hint, the knights conspired to divide up the rooms so that Merlin and Arthur had no choice but to be together. 

Expecting Arthur to object, Merlin was momentarily floored when he easily accepted the arrangement, taking the bed closest to the door as he always used to do when they travelled together. It gave Merlin a spark of hope that maybe things were going to be alright between them. Maybe they would finally be able to clear the air and go back to how things used to be.

But Merlin was dead on his feet so he was in no state to have that conversation now. He was sure that if any other sorcerer attempted to do what he had, they'd be out cold for a week. As it was, the spell had taken so much out of him that he’d needed to be carried much of the way back to the village and had only stayed awake for the trip through sheer bullheadedness. 

He attempted to strip down for bed. He succeeded in getting his boots and jacket off, but gave up on everything else. Somehow Arthur had managed to get changed all by himself and was already in bed. Merlin wanted to ask him where this newfound ability to dress and undress himself had come from, but even in his half-conscious state he knew that would be pushing their fragile truce.

“Last time we were here, they gave us a better room,” Merlin rambled nervously, testing the waters. Arthur looked up briefly but didn't otherwise acknowledge him. Not encouraging, but still worlds better than just a few weeks ago when Arthur was throwing him in the stocks every time he opened his mouth. He tried again. “I think Gwaine and Percy took that one, actually. But maybe this one's got less spiders at least.”

Arthur grunted and Merlin supposed that was a sign of improvement. He bent over the water basin to wash his face, trying to think of something else to say. When he finished, he saw that Arthur watching him closely. 

Merlin blushed. “Funny that we’d end up here again of all places," he blurted to cover up his reaction. "Do you think that witch from before is behind all of this?”

Finally, Arthur spoke, his voice and expression neutral, “Looks to be that way.”

Thinking back on that first encounter, Merlin sobered. “I should have stopped her then. I should have done everything differently.”

Something flashed in Arthur’s eyes and was gone before Merlin could identify it. Arthur looked about to say something, but the moment passed and he just lay down and closed his eyes.

“Put out the candle, Merlin.”

Merlin blew it out and retreated to his own bed in silence. Despite his uneasy thoughts, he was asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

In the middle of the night, he stirred when he felt the mattress dip. Sluggishly, he blinked his heavy eyelids open. He was surprised to find Arthur sitting at the edge of his bed. Merlin was about to ask what he wanted when Arthur reached forward and flicked him in the forehead.

“Ow, you _prat,”_ Merlin grumbled sleepily, sitting up. He couldn't begin to guess what Arthur's problem was this tired. So tired he forgot to stop himself from thinking that Arthur looked beautiful in the moonlight, his golden hair turned silver and his eyes gleaming.

Merlin pushed the thought down and squinted at Arthur. “What is it?”

“I wanted to confirm something,” Arthur said quietly, almost to himself.

“Confirm what?” Merlin frowned, beyond confused.

In lieu of an answer, Arthur leaned into Merlin’s space, never breaking eye contact. His hand came up to hover over his chest, over Merlin's rapidly beating heart, stopping just shy of touching. His intense stare bore straight through Merlin, who couldn't look away if he tried. 

“If you want me to stop, tell me to stop," he whispered. "Tell me to leave, and I’ll leave.”

Arthur waited. Heart beating wildly and far more awake than he'd been a minute ago, Merlin nodded his permission for Arthur to...continue whatever it was he was doing. After a brief hesitation, Arthur began to stroke his hand across Merlin's chest. His questing fingers trailed ponderously over his collar bone and then the hand ventured lower, accidentally brushing against a clothed nipple, startling a gasp out of Merlin. 

Arthur went still. “Tell me to stop,” he said, almost challenging.

Merlin bit his lip and said nothing. He kept any further noises to himself as the exploration continued with the addition of a second hand. Feather light touches dusted over his belly where his shirt had ridden up. Hands mapped the lean muscles of his arms. Calloused palms slid up his sensitive neck, thumbs resting in the hollow of his throat. 

It was the most exquisite torture. Arthur touched him everywhere but the one place Merlin wanted him to. Every time his hands began to wander south, they would drift back up again. Merlin wanted to reach out and grab those hands, touch Arthur the way he was touching Merlin, but he didn't know if he was allowed. He grasped the bedsheets tightly so he wouldn't be tempted.

Blunt nails scraped lightly down Merlin's neck, sending shivers racing down his spine. He gasped Arthur's name and leaned into the touch.

The fingers twitched and pulled away. Then Arthur was nudging Merlin down until he was lying on his back with Arthur leaning over him, hands on either side of his face.

“Arthur,” breathed Merlin.

Arthur bent down but bypassed Merlin's lips completely to skim his own over Merlin's cheekbones instead. Trying to catch him in a kiss, Merlin turned his head but Arthur moved just out of reach. As some sort of consolation prize, Arthur swiped a thumb along Merlin’s lower lip, not pressing hard, just barely touching. It was driving him mad. Merlin kissed his fingers instead and saw heat flare in Arthur's eyes.

And then Arthur was gone, retreating to his own bed without a single word of explanation. Cold and panting, Merlin lay there for a long time trying to figure out what just happened and whether he should be embarrassed or angry. He fell asleep without answers and when he woke up alone in their room the next day, he wasn't sure if any of it had been real or if he'd dreamed the whole thing.

## \---


	3. Part 2 (cont.)

\---

They ate breakfast at the inn, cooked by the innkeeper still gamely trying to act like everything was normal even as she jumped at shadows and couldn't quite meet any of their eyes. Still, she was handling it better than most of the other people in town, whose behavior alternated between listlessness and outright panic. It strengthened Merlin's resolve to get to the bottom of this once and for all. They discussed their next move over eggs and stale bread.

“We need to get to the source,” said Elyan. 

Merlin agreed, adding, “The sorcerer would have to have been nearby when the curse was cast."

"That's a start." Gwaine pushed his plate away and stood. "If we're lucky, someone will remember having seen them on the day they came to enslave the village. What do you think, Princess? Shall we ask around?”

Arthur didn't answer him. He was staring out the window, watching a hollow-eyed man stumbled along with a hoe, returning to work because there was nothing to be done but carry on as usual.

Leon cleared his throat, "Sire?"

Arthur shook his head, turning back to them. "Yes, I heard him. Split up and start interviewing people. Be gentle about it."

Eventually they found someone who told them they saw a strange woman in brown rags hanging around town three days ago. She’d arrived on foot, coming from the eastern path leading into the village. They'd have to take the chance that she'd left in that direction as well because it was their only lead.

They had to get going before the trail (if there even was one) went cold, but before that Merlin needed to find Arthur. It was time for a long overdue conversation.

He found Arthur in their room, packing.

“That’s my job,” Merlin tried to joke, approaching uncertainly.

“And yet here I am doing it for you. George keeps telling me to dock your pay, and I’m inclined to agree.” Though the words were teasing, Arthur’s voice was flat.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin said, “Arthur, I want to apologize. Not about the packing--about everything else. I've apologized before but not--not properly."

Saying nothing, Arthur stopped shoving things into his pack and looked at Merlin expectantly.

"I’m sorry, Arthur," Merlin began, letting the truth of it seep into his voice. "I’m sorry that I lied about my magic for so long. I was afraid you'd hate me. And if you sent me away, I wouldn't be able to protect you. And I'm--I'm sorry for Morgana and the dragon and--and every other stupid mistake I've ever made. I'm sorry I made you doubt yourself. But I've only ever used my magic for you and I swear, Arthur, I _swear_ that I will never turn it against you.”

For a long time Arthur was quiet, glaring at the ground. The silence stretched between them.

Merlin wanted to say more, but something told him that to do so would be a mistake. He felt like they were balanced on a precipice and the wrong word would topple them over.

When Arthur finally did speak, he sounded incredulous.

“How do you still not get it?” 

He barked a humorless laugh. The sound made Merlin flinch and Arthur seemed to find that funny so he chuckled again. “What was it you said to me back then? About evil and magic and the hearts of men? I think you were right about that after all.”

Merlin shook his head, feeling the conversation slip rapidly out of his control. "I don't..."

Eyes burning, Arthur closed the distance between them in a few steps. Instinctively, Merlin tried to back up but bumped against the small table by the door. Arthur brought a hand up to his cheek and Merlin's breath caught in his throat.

“It’s strange," said Arthur softly, "Sometimes I look at you and I feel things--think things. I find myself thinking about you constantly, no matter how hard I try to put you from my mind. I can't even escape you in my bloody dreams." He watched his own hand run along Merlin’s jaw and said in a trembling voice, “I _...want_ you. Gods help me, I want you.” 

Hand snaking around to grip the back of his neck, he pulled Merlin in until they were a hair’s breadth away from kissing. Merlin shut his eyes to escape the rawness of Arthur's expression. He felt Arthur lean impossibly close, breath against his lips as he whispered, “There are so many things I want to do to you...”

Suddenly, Arthur pulled away, taking his warmth with him and leaving Merlin bereft. Arthur's eyes hardened and, laughing bitterly, he spat, “But I can’t tell if any of it is real.”

Walking backward until his knees hit the bed, Merlin sat down hard.

Gripping his hair, Arthur went on, “Everything I feel towards you, every thought I have when I look at you--I don’t know if it’s _me_ or the _spell._ I don’t know if any of these thoughts were ever my own.” He rounded on Merlin furiously, "You should have ended the spell the _minute_ you could--so why the fuck didn't you?!"

Feeling hollow, Merlin searched for an answer he wasn't ashamed of. “Arthur...I..." He looked up at Arthur helplessly.

Arthur's face twisted. “But that’s not even the worst of it. I opened up to you. I told you things I have never told another. I shared my _heart_ with you." Arthur's face flushed with anger, or perhaps shame. "But I wasn’t in my right mind--I never chose that! And damn you, Merlin, you just let it happen! You let a spell warp my emotions because it suited you. If I ever felt _anything_ for you before all this..." He laughed again. It was a horrible sound. "How can I possibly trust those feelings now? How can I ever trust _you_ now?”

Merlin shut his eyes tight. Oh, what had he done? 

All his talk about never hurting Arthur with magic and Merlin managed to do it without casting a single spell. He remembered the mingled rage and horror on Arthur's face when the enchantment ended. It hadn't been Merlin's _magic_ that put that look on Arthur's face. It had been _Merlin._

“I’m sorry, Arthur," he breathed. It was so inadequate but he didn't know the right words to encompass the whole of his regret. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could make it right-"

"You can't," Arthur snapped.

Shaking his head miserably, Merlin tried to think of something, anything. "I could--I could put myself under the same enchantment so we’d be even-”

Arthur cut him off with a dismissive gesture. The turbulent energy from his emotional outburst was winding down and now Arthur just looked tired and angry. “Spare me the theatrics. I don't want to be 'even' and I don't want your penance."

Though it was difficult, Merlin forced himself to meet Arthur's eyes. "What _do_ you want? Do you..." He swallowed. "Do you want me to leave?"

Merlin could do it. He could cast the most powerful protections he knew, he could hunt down and destroy every last one of Arthur's enemies and protect him from afar. If that's what Arthur wanted.

Scowling, Arthur looked away. “No. Those first few days...I was so bloody furious with you that I almost sent you away. Obviously, I changed my mind."

"Because Gwen convinced you?"

"Because I couldn't bring myself to do it," Arthur scoffed, his anger turning inward. "Apparently I’m not willing to let you go.”

Merlin didn't understand. “But why? You're...you hate me.”

Arthur stalked forward with a heated glare and growled, "Don't presume to know how I feel. I was angry--I _am_ angry--but..." He seemed to struggle with himself. "...But I cannot forget all the years you've been a loyal friend to me. Or the fact that I owe you my life a hundred times over.”

Voice lowering, he added, “I also cannot forget how you betrayed my trust, Merlin. Whatever we were, whatever we _could have_ been--it’s done. You can make amends and I can forgive you, but we can never go back to the way things were.” 

Picking up his travel pack, Arthur went to leave. Reaching the door, he sighed and said, almost apologetically, “Perhaps, someday, we might be friends again.”

Merlin sat there a long time after Arthur had gone and cried.

\---

When they hit the road again, the knights could tell that something was very wrong but neither Arthur nor Merlin responded well to their concerned prying. The tension was even higher now than it had been when they'd first set out. Arthur had gone back to coldly ignoring Merlin, who told Gwaine to leave it alone when he offered to kick Arthur's ass for him. Truthfully, Merlin wouldn't even know what to say if Arthur did start talking to him. He was secretly grateful for the distance. And the silence.

_...Whatever we were, whatever we could have been...it’s done..._

Arthur was lost to Merlin for good, that much was clear. He seemed to think they could be friends again, some time in the future when enough time had passed for them to move on from this. But without trust it would never be the same, they could never be as close as they used to be. Merlin ached to think of all that he'd thrown away with his selfishness.

(He didn't even want to think about the possibility that he might have ruined more than just their friendship. He'd tried very hard to forget about kissing Arthur these past few weeks, but he couldn't shake the thought now that maybe Gwen had been right, that there'd been potential there for a kind of happiness Merlin never really hoped to have. And in his greed to have a taste of it, he'd torn it all down.)

Why hadn't he just lifted the damn spell? He hadn't thought it was doing any harm. He hadn't thought at all. He'd been so caught up in the joy of being accepted by Arthur, loved by Arthur...but if he'd only stopped to think...

Well, he supposed it hardly mattered anymore.

His world had crumbled all over again, but this time he wasn't going to fool himself into thinking he could salvage anything from the wreckage.

\---

They followed the witch’s trail to an old mining pit. It obviously hadn't been used in years, though the man-made caves and tunnels remained. There were grooves carved into the rocky walls that looked suspiciously like claw marks.

“I don’t like this,” said Arthur. "This could be a trap. We should-"

A screech ripped through the pit and they all groaned, hands flying up to cover their ears. The horses spooked and ran, but Merlin hardly noticed, too busy trying to figure out what the hell was happening. The shrill cry bounced off the rocky walls around them and he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. 

With his hands pressed flat over his ears Merlin almost didn't hear it when Leon shouted.

“Merlin, behind you!”

Turning, Merlin saw a creature emerge from the tunnel behind him and he hastily backed away. This time it wasn't a bear or a wolf. It was another chimera, this one even more hideous than the last. It looked to be a shoddy amalgam of many different creatures, possessing among other things the scales of a fish, the hairless flanks of a wolf, and a bulging mass of muscles so mutated that it was impossible to tell what kind of animal it had been stolen from. It had two arms, one belonging to a bear, the other the wiry scaled foreleg of a wyvern. From its back spouted leathery wings and above its muscular shoulders sat an owl head turning this way and that, bulbous eyes like twin yellow moons, razor-sharp beak hanging open in a perpetual screech.

The knights fell into an offensive formation. As planned, their role was to be the distraction while Merlin performed the counter curse. They charged the chimera with an attention-drawing battle cry and Merlin slipped away to find a safe vantage point. Keeping his body low, he ran from one rocky shelter to another, keeping an eye on the fight.

Despite its large size the chimera was quick on its feet and the others were having a difficult time dodging its frenzied attacks. Nothing they did could slow it down, let alone keep it still enough for Merlin to cast the spell. And even without the added factor of movement, it wouldn't be easy. Up close the chimera looked a lot bigger than the bear. It was going to take a lot of concentration to get the counter-curse to work and Merlin guessed that he wouldn't have many extra chances. 

Seeing Gwaine in trouble, Merlin threw out a stunning spell. The same spell had thrown the bear but the chimera only fell back a few steps. Fortunately, the distraction was enough for Gwaine to get away. Less fortunately, the chimera turned its attention to Merlin instead.

"Oh shit," Merlin gasped, breaking into a sprint. 

Not weighed down by armor, he was quicker on his feet than the others and dodged the first few attacks easily enough without magic. Not that he had the breath to say any spells while he ran for his life. The others were shouting, trying to draw the chimera's aggression back onto them, but it didn't seem to care. Maybe it could somehow sense that Merlin was the better prey, being preternaturally clumsy and having no hope of keeping his footing on this uneven ground covered in loose rocks.

When the inevitable happened and Merlin slipped, everything seemed to slow down. More accurately, everything but _Merlin_ seemed to slow down. Horrified, he stared up at the beast, which had been just seconds away from disemboweling him. As if moving through molasses, its magically suspended body inched forward, trying to complete its lunge. Merlin had to be careful not to cut himself on its claws as he scrambled out from under it.

Merlin raised his hands. He should cast the spell now. At any moment he could lose his grip on time and, with it, his only chance. He started in on the incantation, letting his magic flow through every word. But when his eyes flickered over to where the knights were frozen, his concentration failed. Because there were only four of them standing there. 

Arthur was gone.

Merlin dropped the spell and ran back to where he'd last seen him. Cold anxiety crawled up his throat when he looked and looked and _looked_ and still couldn't find him.

But then, out of the corner of his eye: a flash of red and gold.

There! Hidden in the shadow of a cave's mouth was the witch. Arthur’s unconscious body was hung across her shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

And then time was speeding up again. The chimera landed and Merlin hastily threw out a wave of force that, strengthened by desperation, knocked the beast clear across the pit. But Merlin didn't stop to celebrate.

“The witch has Arthur!” he cried, pointing at the now empty cave entrance.

“Ah shit,” Gwaine swore. Whether he was talking about Arthur or the chimera, which was crying out its fury like a banshee and would be upon them again in minutes, Merlin didn't know. “You go after the Princess, Merlin, we’ll hand this guy," he said and squared up for another round. The others followed his lead.

Merlin nodded. "Be careful," he said to them and ran for the cave. It led him into a tunnel that seemed to go on forever. The witch had a solid head start on him and was long gone.

He cast a tracking spell he'd used many times to find Arthur and followed it through a maze of tunnels, eventually coming across a large cavern. Towering stalagmites and precariously balanced sheets of rocks were arranged to make separate chambers. In the bigger one a decently sized pile of rags and straw sat beside a pair of ratty boots. In the other was a rat roasting above a heap of smoldering coals and a workbench much like the one in Gaius' rooms, covered in glass bottles and instruments made of brass. Unlike Gaius', however, these tools were filthy with crusted blood. The rest of the cavern floor was strewn with clothes and rotten food and far too many bones. 

One corner of the space was hidden in deep shadow. The witch stepped out of the darkness.

“Hello again, little warlock. Did you enjoy my gift?” 

She smiled her crooked smile at him, eyes glittering with malice. A bloody dagger dangled from her knobby fingers. 

Merlin snarled, “Where’s Arthur?!”

The smile stretched wider across her face. "Though I say it was a gift, I honestly hadn’t intended to anchor you to my love spell the last time we met, so I'm having another go. Although I can't say I wasn't pleased with the results," she cackled, "My plan was only to _steal_ the Prince’s heart, but you went a step further and _crushed_ it. Well done, you.”

Merlin clenched his fists. “Where. Is. He.”

"Prince Arthur is being prepared." Smirking, the witch waved a hand. A torch sprang to life behind her, illuminating what lay in the shadows. Gagged and bound to a stone altar and struggling weakly against the ropes tying him down was Arthur. A frightening amount of blood was dripping off the edges of the platform.

“Arthur!” Merlin only made it a few steps before he was lifted off his feet and thrown into the nearest wall. He slid to the ground in a heap. Gods but that hurt.

The witch tutted, “Ah, ah, ah! Greedy boy. You had your turn already and now it’s mine.” Dipping her finger in Arthur’s blood, she drew some sigils across his chest plate. “This spell, though, oh it’s going to be much better than the other one. This time it will be _total control."_

Belatedly Merlin registered the piled up corpses of birds in nearly every corner of the cavern. The witch grinned when she caught him looking.

“Little songbirds are great practice. They’ve got such free hearts, you see, so they resist more. They hate to be caged.”

“You’re sick.”

“Me?" She raised her eyebrows in mock offense. "I'll grant you that I was the one to cage the bird, but it was you who kept him as a pet.” She cackled at the struck expression on his face.

Merlin threw out a hand and yelled--no spells, just a wordless shout of anger. But the witch was ready and hurled a loose boulder in the way of his attack. It exploded into bits of rock and dust. At her hissed command, the bigger chunks of rock flew back at Merlin. Still stunned from the first hit he'd taken, he didn't dodge in time and a few pieces caught him painfully in the stomach. With the wind knocked out of him, Merlin's next attack was sloppy and easily deflected. 

The witch laughed, “Once the Prince’s heart is mine, I think I’ll have him kill you with his own hands.”

As the witch continued to laugh and gloat, Merlin spared a worried glanced for Arthur. All that blood, he must be in shock by now... 

But to his immense relief Arthur was wide awake and alert. He'd gotten his gag off and was still working on freeing his wrists, but those knots wouldn't hold him for long. Merlin just needed to buy him some time. 

With the knowledge that Arthur was counting on him, Merlin faced the witch with a clearer head. 

“You’re going to regret this!” Merlin shouted. For added drama he raised his hands and kicked up a little wind.

She eyed his display with amusement. “You are well-versed in regret, I gather.”

“Yes, I am. People with power like us need to be careful about how we use it. Things can get messy otherwise." He smiled brightly, knowing that would annoy her the most. "I mean, look at you! All this power and you’re wasting it making monsters. Rubbish monsters, even. The worst I've ever seen, and I've seen an Afanc."

The witch was no longer amused. She bared her crooked teeth at Merlin, jeering, “And what have you done with all _your_ power, child?”

“I’ve served a good man," he answered easily.

Her face twisted hatefully. “A man who would kill you for such a favor! To the Pendragons we are as monstrous as any of my creations.”

“Arthur is different."

“Love makes you stupid," she said, voice dripping disgust.

“Yes, it does." Out of the corner of his eye he watched Arthur slip off of the altar. "But not stupider than you," he said, then hurled a fireball into the witch's face.

As he expected, she avoided it easily. But she didn't see Arthur standing behind her with the knife he always kept hidden in his boot. He threw it and it stuck deep into the back of her shoulder. She screamed a curse that sent Arthur to his knees in pain. Merlin retaliated, blasting her across the cavern while she was distracted.

“Arthur, are you alright?” Merlin shouted, torn between running to help him and making sure the witch was down for good.

Arthur put a hand over the red spot on his side. “Looks worse than it is,” he grunted. "She's still alive. Was aiming for her heart. Couldn't keep my hand steady."

"You're bleeding. A lot. Arthur-"

"Don't get distracted!"

They both froze when an ear-splitting screech rose from out of the tunnels, growing louder by the second. Crumpled on her side and unable to stand, the witch held out a glowing chunk of amber. Her lips were moving and her eyes were lit up gold.

Arthur cursed, "Is that the chimera?! Why haven't you idiots killed it yet?!"

"I left to save you, you ungrateful ass!" Merlin yelled just as the monster came hurtling into the cavern.

It was a bloody mess. There was a sword and a few crossbow bolts sticking out of its back and it looked like the knights had hacked one of its hind legs clean off. This slowed it down but wasn't near enough to stop it. It used the remaining three to move, though it screamed with every step. 

The witch raised her fistful of amber and shrieked, “KILL THE WARLOCK!”

Merlin ran and hoped Arthur had the sense to hide. As he moved, he shouted the words for the counter curse but the it bounced off the chimera's hide like it was nothing. So close to the source of the curse, the magic around the chimera was stronger than ever. But Merlin _knew_ he could break it if he could only have a chance to bloody _concentrate._

Arthur was shouting, but Merlin couldn't hear him over the chimera's infernal screeching and the hammering of his own heart. 

Burning pain suddenly erupted all along his back. He cried out and fell to his knees, Arthur's shouts ringing in his ears. The next swipe of claws missed Merlin by a hair, his life saved by the chimera's inability to control its movements with only three legs. 

Merlin scrambled for the first hiding place he could find--behind a large slab of rock crammed up against the cave wall. The beast howled and pawed at the narrow gap Merlin had squeezed himself into. Then the arm withdrew and Merlin heard Arthur’s raised voice coming from the other side of the cavern. He peered out of the gap to see that Arthur had reclaimed the knife he'd buried in the witch's shoulder and was now holding it to her throat.

“Now tell it to come away,” he ordered. 

Looking murderous, she hissed something Merlin couldn't hear. The amber stone in her hands glowed and the beast turned away from Merlin entirely, drawn to the light of the rock.

Arthur watched it warily. “Alright. Good. Now tell it to leave, or go to sleep, or something.”

The witch sneered but her lips moved again and the rock glowed. 

The chimera didn't move. 

Frowning, she tried again, but the chimera stayed where it was. It stared unblinking at the amber clutched in her hand, its bird head twitching. 

The witch raised the rock and snarled, “Obey me, you stupid beast!”

The chimera took a fumbling step forward. Arthur pressed the knife closer to the witch's neck. A warning. 

"Yes, fine!" she spat and hurried through another incantation, then another. The amber glowed brighter and brighter in her hand. "What is wrong with you?!" she screamed, a note of hysteria entering her voice. "Useless, loathsome creature! Do as I command!"

Every glass vial and device in the witch's cavern shattered at the chimera's piercing cry. It went on and on, rising in volume and pitch until finally...

_CRACK!_

The amber stone split in two. All the color drained from the witch's face as she stared down at the broken pieces in wordless shock.

Arthur leapt out of the way just in time. 

The witch didn't even have a chance to scream before the chimera tore through her throat with its mismatched claws. Its huge eyes were a different kind of yellow now, the natural golden yellow of a bird of prey circled thinly around wide black pupils. The curse had been lifted.

But the chimera had not calmed. It was out for blood, curse or no curse.

Arthur tried to make a careful retreat, but the movement gave away his presence. The chimera's wide pupils shrank down to pins and its head spun around to face him. Hungry for another kill, it lurched in his direction. Arthur dove to the side to avoid its claws. Rolling onto his feet, he ran, zig zagging to take advantage of the chimera's lack of coordination. With nothing but a knife to defend himself, it was the only thing he could do. 

Luckily, the chimera was slower and weaker without the curse to control it, inhibited now by pain and fatigue. It kept losing its balance trying to follow Arthur's tight turns. The wyvern wings on its back thrashed uselessly, the body too heavy for them to lift. 

That gave Merlin an idea. He called out to it as a Dragonlord. 

_Stop!_

The chimera jerked. It looked around and wailed in confusion. Merlin put more strength into the command.

_I said STOP!_

The grotesque body lurched one way, then the other. The parts of the chimera that were dragon fighting the parts of it that weren't. 

While it was distracted Arthur snuck up from behind and, planting a foot in its back, he ripped the sword out with a grunt. The chimera screamed. 

Then Arthur ran the borrowed sword through its throat and it fell blessedly silent.

In its death throes, it staggered across the cavern, crashing violently into everything in its path. Its huge body slammed into the slab of rock Merlin was hiding behind. Then there was an ominous _crack_ and Arthur shouting his name as the world crashed down on him and everything went dark.

\---

He couldn't see.

His ears were ringing.

Someone was talking. 

He knew that voice. Where did he know it from?

He remembered. “Arth...r?”

“Merlin! Thank fuck. How badly are you hurt? Can you move?” 

There were other sounds, like pebbles falling. 

And labored breathing. Merlin didn't know if that was him or Arthur. It was probably both.

Merlin tried to move his arm. Ow. Nevermind. Better to lie still.

“...no moving...hurts...wan...na...nap…”

“Do _not_ go to sleep, Merlin!”

Merlin frowned. “...don...tell me...what do…” 

"Merlin? _Merlin!"_

Merlin let everything fade and gratefully sank back into the darkness.

\---

…

“Come on, Merlin, I need you to wake up and move these rocks with your ridiculous magic.”

…

“The others will be here soon, you’re going to be fine.”

…

“You’re still alive in there. You’re just sleeping it off like the lazy idiot you are. You’re sleeping. You'll wake up soon.”

…

\---

“Arthur...” Merlin moaned. “Where...where…”

“Hush, you’re safe. We’re halfway to Camelot.” A cool hand pressed against his forehead. “Shit. His fever’s gone up again. Go get some cold water from the stream.”

“Don’t...leave me.”

“I won’t, Merlin. I’m right here.” The cool hand wrapped securely around one of Merlin’s and gently squeezed.

Merlin tried to squeeze back but his fingers felt stiff and tender. He sniffled. “M-miss you.”

There was a huff. And then again: “I’m right here.”

Merlin wanted to see for himself to make sure, but his eyelids were too heavy to lift. In the dark he heard echoes of this same voice raised in anger. He recalled wounded ice-colored eyes. He didn’t want to see that. He shut his own eyes tighter and trembled.

A noise of distress. “Why are you crying? Are you hurt? You were fine a second ago...” 

Now the voice was upset and that only made Merlin cry harder. The cool hand tightened around his, an attempt at comfort.

Merlin hiccupped, “A-are we still f-friends?” 

There was a long pause. “I... Yes, of course we are.”

“You don’t h-hate me?”

A tired sigh. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because you. You trusted me. And I broke us,” Merlin cried miserably.

“Merlin…”

“I love you s-so much, so much," he sobbed, "It w-was all real for me, e-even if, even if it wasn't for you.”

“I… I shouldn’t be keeping you up. You're delirious. Go back to sleep, Merlin.”

Merlin held onto the hand as tight as he was able. “Will you stay?”

The hand held on just as tightly. “I’ll be right here.”

\---

“...aius says...pull through…”

“...go...need sleep, too, Arth…”

“...promised...Gwen, what do I…”

“...do you love him?...”

“...”

\---

Arthur was dozing at his bedside when Merlin woke up. His body was crammed awkwardly into the rickety chair that Merlin only used to pile his laundry on top of because it was too uncomfortable for sitting on.

Not understanding why Arthur was here enduring Merlin's peasant furniture, he whispered, “Arthur?”

Arthur snapped awake. When he saw Merlin his eyes widened. “Merlin,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “You’re up then.”

“We’re home?”

“Yes.”

“How long...?”

“We returned four days ago. You had a nasty head wound and a few fractures, but it looks like you’ll live.”

Merlin tried to sit up. It was a mistake. “Ow,” he groaned.

Scowling, Arthur pushed him back down with a gentleness that belied his curt admonitions. “Don’t try to move, you imbecile. You’ll undo all of Gaius’ hard work.”

“What happened?” He was only partially asking about his injuries. What he really wanted to know was why Arthur was looking at him like...like he cared.

“The witch and her monster are dead. Elyan took a bad hit and exacerbated his wounds from the wolf attack, so Guinevere is not happy with me. But the others got away with light wounds.”

“What about you?” Merlin asked, trying to surreptitiously examine him.

“I’ll be fine with a bit of rest.” His eyes narrowed. “I suppose I have you to thank for that. You managed to save my life when you weren't _nearly dying because of your own stupidity._ What the _hell_ made you think that shoving your scrawny arse beneath a bloody big rock was going to end well? A child has more sense! My bloody horse has more sense! It's like you were asking to be crushed to death!"

Merlin was taken aback. “...I'm sorry?”

Deflating, Arthur covered his face with his hands. “You will never. _Never._ Do anything like this again.”

“Can you be more specific?” Merlin asked, wincing.

Arthur dropped his hands and glared.

Shifting uncomfortably, Merlin added, “Did you mean the getting crushed by rocks bit or the saving your life bit?”

“The almost dying. And everything that happened before.” Arthur sighed heavily. “You'll be the death of me. Never again, Merlin, you hear me?”

"I do and I promise," Merlin said, meaning it. “I really am sorry, Arthur. For the spell. For everything.”

Arthur put his hand over Merlin's and squeezed once before drawing it away. “You're forgiven," he said like it was nothing.

"But..." Merlin stared. "Are you sure?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, _Mer_ lin, I think I would know who I've decided to forgive and who I haven't."

Feeling wrong-footed, Merlin pressed, "But I hurt you. And you were so angry. I don't understand."

"There's nothing to understand. I was angry. Now I'm not."

"No, really, what changed?"

Arthur looked at him while he contemplated his answer, an array of emotions flickering behind his eyes. In the end, he said simply, "I almost lost you."

Vague memories of Arthur desperately shouting his name rose to the surface of Merlin's mind. He'd thought it had been a dream. 

Merlin looked down at his lap. "So you forgive me just like that?"

"Not 'just like that.' None of us knows how much time we have left and I don't want to spend the rest of it resenting you." Arthur looked at him seriously. "Or you, me. I know that in the past I've hurt you, too. I should've treated you better."

Merlin didn't deny it. "I never resented you for it." At Arthur's disbelieving look, he amended, "...Much."

Sighing, Arthur leaned back in Merlin's uncomfortable chair. "Gwen has _no_ idea what she's talking about. We're a _mess."_

That startled a quiet laugh out of Merlin. Arthur smiled ever so slightly. They settled into a comfortable silence and listened to the sounds of Camelot floating in through the window. 

Merlin opened his eyes, not sure when he closed them. “So what now?”

“Now I get Gaius and let you sleep.” 

As he stood up, Arthur brushed his hand over Merlin’s. Then, to Merlin’s surprise, he brushed his lips across his forehead, too.

Arthur laughed at his gobsmacked face. To shut him up, Merlin pulled him down by his shirt until their faces were inches apart. They stared at each other, laughter fading. Arthur closed the distance and Merlin's eyes slid shut.

It wasn't much of a kiss, just a pressing of lips. But it was their first, the one that counted.

Merlin smiled into the kiss and felt Arthur do the same. They parted and, surprisingly, it wasn't awkward. After everything, there wasn't much left to be shy about. Merlin didn't know whether this was just closure for Arthur or something more. But he knew it would be worth the wait to find out.

Arthur rose. “Rest now. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. _Honestly,_ for once," he added pointedly.

Merlin nodded, “Yes, alright. And you’ll listen to me more now? And give me a vacation?”

“Hm. Yes to the first. Keep dreaming to the second.”

Merlin lay back with a snort and felt lighter than he had in ages. He watched Arthur walk away, thinking. He'd promised to be honest. This was as good a time as any to start. 

“Arthur?”

Arthur turned at the door.

Smiling uncertainly, Merlin confessed, “Nothing I said during that first month was a lie.”

Arthur’s face softened. “I know, Merlin. Me too.”

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they spend several days drowning in ust until Gwen locks them in a cupboard.
> 
> Happy new year!


End file.
